by Roger Taylor
The young man started violently and made several peculiar noises before managing to speak properly. ‘It’s a strange tale,’ he stammered. ‘But it seems honest enough.’ He flicked a rueful glance towards Antyr as if trying to retrieve the awkward words, and added hastily, ‘And, as you said yourself, the trust of the Goraidin in the teller adds much to it. It demands serious study.’ Then he was floundering. ‘But I don’t think I can make anything of it. I know that you and the Senior Brothers have conjectured about the possibility of other worlds, here but not here, as Antyr put it, but I’m still struggling with what you find to be much less demanding concepts. I’m afraid all I have at the moment are questions.’ Then he became youthfully earnest. ‘But whatever else it might mean, if someone has trained another in the use of the Power – and it seems they have – and there’s been so little discipline in that training that they’ve run amok with it, then we’ll have to make something of it. If this . . . tall . . . man’s trained one, he might have trained others and there’s no saying what the consequences might be.’
Andawyr nodded appreciatively. ‘A good down-to-earth point which, I’ll confess, I’d missed, Ar-Billan. What do you think we should do, then?’
Ar-Billan, pleased by this response but all too aware that a lesson was in progress, fumbled with his faint beard anxiously. ‘With Antyr’s permission, I think we’ll have to go through his story again. Slowly, and very carefully. And, too, the Goraidin’s. Then we can lay out those things that are known for sure and decide what questions we need to ask to test the reliability of whatever’s left. Then we’ll be able to consider what it all means.’
Andawyr looked round at the others. ‘Seems reasonable to me. Does anyone have any problems with that?’ he asked generally. No one demurred.
‘Good,’ he said to Ar-Billan, with a broad smile. ‘Well done. Unanimity’s such a rare event.’
He turned to Yatsu. ‘I was out in the mountains this morning because I wanted to break some rigid patterns of thought that had been encumbering me lately. I’d made a decision when Tarrian chose to “introduce” himself to me and I’ve just made it again. It also deals with the advice you wanted me to give you. As Ar-Billan has just summarized for us, the first thing we need to do is work through your stories again, slowly, carefully. I suggest we do that as we all go down to Anderras Darion.’ He added a hasty reassurance to the two Goraidin. ‘Don’t worry, I wasn’t proposing we dash off immediately. I have a sense of urgency about this, but it’s not that urgent and I can see you need some time just doing nothing. Take whatever rest you need here, then we’ll have a nice leisurely trip down there. The only thing I’d suggest you do now is write a preliminary Accounting for the Geadrol. And, Jaldaric, you can write to your father as well. Just to let everyone know you’re back safely. There are riders to and from Vakloss nearly every day now.’
Only Oslang seemed to be put out by this decision. ‘What can we do at Anderras Darion that we can’t do here?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know until we get there,’ Andawyr answered obtusely, standing up and starting to pace about. ‘But a good break from what we’re doing won’t do us any harm, will it?’ Oslang began to frown but Andawyr opened his arms expansively. ‘Besides, we’ll see all our old friends. And doubtless meet new ones if half of what I hear about the comings and goings in Orthlund is true.’ He gripped Oslang’s shoulders. ‘And who can say what they’ll have found in that place? Remember that library? At least the equal of ours. Not to mention just the atmosphere there.’
‘We’ve got plenty to do here,’ Oslang countered weakly.
‘And what we don’t take with us will be here when we get back.’ The grip became a hearty slap. ‘The fact that you’re disputing with me shows it’s too long since you’ve been there.’ He became sympathetic. ‘I know. What we’ve been doing is difficult and disturbing and you’ve got your own patient methodical way of tackling it.’ He met Oslang’s gaze – old friends. ‘But we’re stuck, aren’t we? We’re going round and round – going nowhere.’ He indicated Antyr and the Goraidin who were watching the exchange with interest. ‘This is just what’s needed. A random happening. Something uncalculated, incalculable. Something at right angles to all known directions. A stone under the wheels to shake our weary thoughts loose!’ He made to snap his fingers dramatically in front of Oslang’s face but failed miserably.
‘You never could do that, could you?’ Oslang snorted, his expression a mixture of despair and delight as he snapped his own fingers with a crack that made the others jump. ‘All right, you’ve made your point. I can’t face being metaphored to death. You’re probably right.’
‘I am right.’
Ar-Billan coughed discreetly to remind his seniors that he was still there.
‘Have you ever been to Anderras Darion, Ar-Billan?’ Andawyr asked.
‘No, I haven’t. I’ve heard a great deal about it from those who have, of course. It’s a marvellous place by all accounts. I’d love to go.’
‘Good, that’s settled then. You will. We’ll leave in a couple of . . .’ He caught Yatsu’s eye. ‘We’ll leave when everyone’s ready.’
He whispered to Ar-Billan who nodded and left, then he turned to Antyr and the Goraidin. ‘He’s just gone to prepare some of the guest rooms for you all.’ He became proprietorial. ‘We’re getting to be quite good at providing hospitality these days – a veritable hostelry. There’s every chance you’d be comfortable with us even if you hadn’t been travelling for months.’
‘I’m sure I would,’ Antyr agreed.
‘I’ll show you round in the meantime. I think you’ll find the place unusual. Don’t be afraid to ask about anything.’ He took Antyr’s arm and spoke to him intently. ‘You’re no longer alone. We may not be able to find answers to everything that’s happened to you, but we’ll find a lot. And whatever torments you’ve got, remember that this place is safe – very safe.’
Antyr looked appreciative but doubtful. ‘I don’t think anything’s threatening me now. And I suspect that any difficulties I have I carry with me.’
‘Yes,’ Andawyr said. ‘Quite probably. We all do. But even on our limited acquaintance I can see that you’re given to surviving, not self-destruction. I’m fairly certain that anything you’ve brought here you can cope with, quite possibly without our help. Just be assured that nothing can assail you from outside.’
Leaving Yatsu and Jaldaric, Andawyr spent the rest of the day showing Antyr about the Cadwanen – or part of it, for the Cadwanen was a vast and complicated complex of workshops, halls of experiment, teaching rooms, living quarters and recreational areas. And in places it was very busy as members of the Order went about their tasks.
Tarrian and Grayle necessarily attracted a great deal of attention as they flanked the two men on their journey, but their presence did not protect Andawyr from being constantly accosted.
‘I can see why you’d want to be alone in the mountains at times,’ Antyr said sympathetically as Andawyr managed eventually to disentangle himself from a particularly persistent, albeit apologetic, individual. Andawyr chuckled good-naturedly.
‘It’s a strange thing, Antyr. Circumstances have made me the Leader of this Order, and I’ve no regrets about that, but the only authority I have is what these people give me and when I look at the kind of people they are, and the qualities they bring to this place, I find it very humbling. It sounds pretentious, I know, but it’s an honour to serve them and I wouldn’t have it otherwise.’
‘From what Yatsu and Jaldaric told me, it was more than mere circumstances that made you what you are,’ Antyr said.
They were walking along a high balcony overlooking an echoing hall. ‘They exaggerate,’ Andawyr replied.
‘I thought the Goraidin were noted for their ability to observe in great detail and to report with great accuracy,’ Antyr said, risking some irony.
Andawyr gave him an arch look, but his reply was unexpectedly serious. ‘Circumstances placed me whe
re I had to change or die, Antyr,’ he said. ‘Just like they did with you.’ He paused and leaned on the stone balustrade to gaze down at the figures passing below. ‘Purposeful movement with no discernible pattern,’ he muttered absently, then, ‘We each of us found a resource from somewhere. Who we can thank for that I’ve no idea, save our forebears. I find it helpful to remind myself that maybe I was just lucky and, given that, that I should devote the rest of my time to learning more about everything and passing on my knowledge to others so that if there’s a next time, they – or I – won’t have to rely on luck.’
There was a coldness in his conclusion that disturbed Antyr; not by its strangeness, but by its familiarity.
Then Andawyr was jovial again. ‘But you’re right,’ he said. ‘I’m not above irritability when my halo gets too tight and a little solitude from time to time is very welcome. I just tend to forget that, until something like today happens.’
They left the balcony and went down several flights of stairs to enter the hall itself. ‘I do try to remember,’ Andawyr said, with a look of bewildered concern. ‘I write notes to remind myself. But then I lose them. Tidiness isn’t one of my stronger character traits, I’m afraid.’
‘I can see that that would present difficulties,’ Antyr said with a laugh. He stopped and gazed around the hall. ‘This is truly an amazing place,’ he said. Sunlight was streaming in through high-arched windows that, vivid with coloured patterns, ran along both sides of the hall. The ceiling too was elaborately decorated, unlike almost everywhere else he had seen so far. ‘It feels so open, so fresh, I find it difficult to imagine that we’re underground – inside a mountain.’ He pointed to the windows. ‘Are they mirror stones too?’
‘Yes. All the windows you see are mirror stones. Remind me to show you how they work before we leave. You’ll appreciate it, I’m sure.’
‘I’m sure I will,’ Antyr agreed. ‘Though I have to say that from what I’ve seen as we’ve walked around they’re very disorientating.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘They give views of the mountains and the valleys that are markedly at odds with the stairs we’ve climbed up and down.’
‘That’s because you’re not paying attention,’ Tarrian said impatiently, speaking to both of them before Andawyr could comment. ‘Why you don’t use your nose more, I don’t know. There’s a kitchen along here, for example.’ He and Grayle began padding off down the corridor.
‘Yes,’ Andawyr intervened quickly. ‘But I doubt the cooking Brothers would be pleased to have you wandering about them. If you’d like something to eat, there’s a more suitable place down here.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ Tarrian replied affably. ‘I’m not particularly hungry myself. It’s for Antyr, you understand. His concentration wavers if he gets too hungry. But I’ll have a little something to be sociable, of course.’
Andawyr took them along a broad corridor into a communal dining hall. Plain wooden tables were flanked by plain wooden benches and at one end there was a large counter on which was arrayed a wide variety of food. There were several people in the room – some of them eating, some of them serving themselves from the counter. Tarrian and Grayle headed straight towards the counter, causing several startled diners in the process of returning to their tables to change direction abruptly.
‘Get back here, you two,’ Antyr hissed to them, adding out loud to Andawyr, ‘I do apologize. They’ve been too long in the mountains.’ The two wolves stopped but did not return, choosing instead to wait for him to reach them.
‘Don’t concern yourself too much,’ Andawyr said. ‘We have felcis in and out of the place all the time. It’s just that they’re not as big as these two.’
‘Felcis?’ Antyr queried.
‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ Andawyr replied. He indicated a nearby table and spoke authoritatively to the two wolves. ‘Would you like to wait over there while I get something for you?’
After a visit to the counter and a negotiation with a red-faced and flustered-looking individual, he returned with food for himself and Antyr and two large bones for the wolves. Rather to his surprise, the wolves sniffed them suspiciously before taking them.
As he sat down, a low bell-like tone reverberated through the room.
‘I’ve heard that several times,’ Antyr said. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s a warning,’ Andawyr replied. ‘Or, more correctly, that note is a confirmation that all’s well throughout the caves.’
Antyr’s brow furrowed. ‘A warning,’ he echoed. ‘What do you need to be warned about here?’
‘What did Yatsu and Jaldaric tell you about the Cadwanol and these caves?’ Andawyr asked.
‘That you were an Order of learned men established by Ethriss at the time of the First Coming of Sumeral with the intention of gathering knowledge so that He could be opposed in many different ways. They said the caves were full of strange devices, but they didn’t elaborate.’ He looked around. ‘And they certainly didn’t prepare me for anything I’ve seen today.’
Andawyr broke a piece of bread from a loaf and began nibbling at it idly. ‘Well, that’s all true enough, though pared thinly even for a Goraidin’s telling.’
Concerned that he might have inadvertently betrayed his friends, Antyr protested gently. ‘No, no. They told me a great deal, but I’m afraid I’ve not remembered as much of it as I should. The journey was demanding, to say the least. To be honest, I slept whenever I could. I’m no soldier, least of all like they are, and though they were patience itself I’d a great many simple practical things to learn as we went along if I wasn’t to be too much of a burden to them. Especially through the mountains. And I don’t think it helped that it was winter when we set out,’ he added ruefully.
‘It’s all right,’ Andawyr reassured him with a smile. ‘I wasn’t criticizing. Besides, the three of us have known one another long enough to be quite free in our exchanges of abuse.’ The smile became a quiet laugh. ‘But, answering your question. Do you see that?’ He pointed to a panel by the main doorway to the hall. On it was a symbol. As Antyr looked at it, the symbol gave him the impression that it was suffused with a slowly shifting glow, though if he stared hard at it he could see no actual change.
‘I’ve noticed several like that, though with different symbols on them,’ he said. ‘They’re very strange. I was intending to ask you about them.’
Andawyr became pensive. ‘They’re part of what I suppose you’d call the darker side of our life here. Yatsu and Jaldaric are quite right, this place is full of strange devices. In fact, it’s full of very dangerous devices.’ He leaned forward and his voice fell as if he did not want to be overheard. ‘When Ethriss founded the Order, it was a terrible time. The more I read and learn about it, the more I realize just how terrible it was. Sumeral held great sway then. His armies were powerful and fearsome. It seemed that nothing – nothing – could stand against His ultimate victory.’ He tapped the table with his forefinger for emphasis. ‘Part of the horror of it was that He had many honourable and very able people fighting for His cause; people deceived by His words, seduced by His promises or just terrified by the lies He spread about His enemies. And it was Ethriss’s greatest sorrow that in order to defeat Him, he’d no choice but to use His own weapons against Him. He had to teach his own followers how to make war and every cruel thing that that entails. It was a brutal loss of innocence.’ He twitched his hand irritably to stop himself from digressing. ‘It was a desperate matter that this place be kept secret. Had Sumeral learned about us then He’d have known the risk we posed and He’d have launched His entire might against us. But it was no slight thing, avoiding His eye; He’d many and different spies roaming the world. At first, Ethriss was able to shelter those who were working here, but he couldn’t do that for long as his very presence would eventually have drawn the enemy here. So very soon the first Brothers had to protect themselves. They did this by doing what we do yet – learning and practicin
g the skills with the Old Power that Ethriss had taught them.’ He sat back and glanced admiringly around the hall, almost as though he were looking at it for the first time. The jarring sound of Tarrian and Grayle massacring their bones rose into the silence. ‘And, I have to say, from a purely professional point of view, some of the work they did was staggering. Such minds, Antyr. Such minds. It’s difficult to comprehend. In many ways we knew so little. Some of the things we regard as elementary now – things we teach almost casually to our novices – were at the very limits of their knowledge then – brilliant insights. To discover them from nothing, as it were, betokens vision and intellect which humbles us all yet. Some of the discoveries they made actually turned everything that was then accepted completely upside down.’ He gave a guilty shrug. ‘I’m sorry, I’m wandering again, aren’t I? I’m apt to when I talk about the past. I’ve always had a keen sense of history and after what happened to us it’s keener than ever these days. Anyway, coming to your question again, the symbols that you see and the sounds you hear are part of a vast, intricate web of warning devices and traps developed from those that the first Brothers made to protect themselves. It’s altered, refined, adjusted, extended constantly, but at its heart it’s still what they made.’
Antyr turned to look at the panel and its symbol, which still seemed to be at once moving and not moving. ‘I told you I’m no soldier, but I served my time behind a shield wall when I was younger and had to learn something about sieges and the kind of traps that can be laid within a castle – falling stones, sprung spears, counter-weighted blades and the like – but that doesn’t look like any device I’ve ever heard about.’
‘I’d be very surprised if you had,’ Andawyr said. ‘And more than a little alarmed.’
Antyr raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘We search endlessly for knowledge here, but all knowledge can be abused, and all knowledge carries responsibilities,’ Andawyr replied. ‘And that,’ he nodded towards the panel, ‘carries responsibilities far beyond the average.’ He stood up. ‘Come on, I’ll tell you more as we go.’