Golden Trillium

by Andre Norton

  “Tostlet comes to aid.” Gosel flashed that to Kadiya almost as if he expected her to refuse their attendance of the Oddling. “She is learned in healing.”

  A wisewoman-healer? Why not; each race no matter how different must have those taught to aid. Though the girl still could not tell the difference between male and female as far as the Hassitti were concerned, she had come to believe Gosel was male.

  Tostlet poked a claw into the mass on the leaf. She apparently approved the preparation, for she picked up the length, and, with infinite care, placed it over Jagun’s eyes—or rather the whole upper part of his face. He struggled against the belt which held him on the improvised stretcher, as if he would push it away. However, Tostlet with the aid of another raised the Oddling’s head and bound the coated bandage in place with the rest of the leaves which they slit into usable strings as they worked.

  The lamp bearer again leading the way, the party began once more the long journey to the upper regions. But not before Tostlet had spread a dab of the jelly on a remaining bit of leaf and held it out to Kadiya.

  “For the eyes, Nobel One,” she urged and the girl did make use of it, dabbing as she went. The whirls of light which had continued to flash before her at intervals faded, as did the smarting. She was sure that, had she been caught in the midst of the maze, she might well have gone blind from the fury of those beams around her.

  At length they came into the upper reaches of the city, out into that second courtyard with its fountain. It seemed to Kadiya that the day was darker. Was it her sight suffering even though her eyes no longer hurt? What would it mean to be without sight, lost forever in the darkness? Her thoughts shivered.

  Jagun was set down by the fountain. His head turned from side to side now and he was moaning.

  “Dark—hurt—I thirst—” Those words, even in Oddling speech, she knew. Kadiya hurried to the basin, cupped her hands to scoop up water. There was a touch on her shoulder. Someone who stood beside her held out a goblet as richly begemmed as that from which she had drunk the guesting draught.

  She dipped it, filled it, and was instantly on her knees beside Jagun, his head braced up against her as she held the edge of the goblet to those lips beneath the leaf mask.

  “Drink, shield brother.” She used the Oddling speech as best she could, though none of her race could form the sounds fully.

  Jagun obeyed. Again he tried to move his hands and Kadiya, still holding him up, gestured to the nearest Hassitti to loosen the belt. The hunter’s hand groped upward through the air until his fingers fell on Kadiya’s wrist and tightened there.

  “Farseer”—this time he spoke in the trade language—“is it you in truth? Are you, also, caught in this place of many heatless fires?” There was an urgency in his demand which she was quick to respond to.

  “Comrade, we are free of that place. Once more we are under sky. Drink: this is water, clear as it seldom is afar from the isles.”

  Drink he did, then both hands went to the bandage across his eyes. But Kadiya caught the nearest and held it still.

  “Not yet, comrade. This is healing for the lights.”

  He turned his head a little against her shoulder. She saw his flat nostrils expand as when they were on the hunting trail, as if he could sniff out any intruder.

  “There are others here.” He used the trader tongue and his voice had dropped to hardly above a whisper.

  “There are those who brought us both forth from the place of lights. They call themselves Hassitti.”

  She could feel the instant tension of his body.

  “Hassitti—”

  Then she caught the mind speech and Gosel was there. Could Jagun “hear” that also? It seemed as if the Hassitti expected him to.

  “We are those who wait, swamper. We wait even though your kind would have none of waiting and went forth on paths of your own choosing!” There was accusation in that.

  “Hassitti.” Again Jagun spoke the name aloud. “But such are of the Dark tales—”

  “Swamper!” There was rising anger in that. “Never did we hold with the Dark! We were of those who served, who were left in trust! When you went off to your mud and murk, we remained.”

  Jagun turned his head a fraction more so that his bandaged cheek touched Kadiya’s breast.

  “Farseer, take into mind the pictures of these so that I may see.”

  She lifted her head a little so that she could stare straight at Gosel, building a mind picture of this one who appeared to be the leader of these creatures.

  “Soooo …” Jagun made the word a hiss, “the very ancient tales are then the truth. But how can that be? For it was said that such went with the Vanished Ones who had an odd taste for their companionship and would never have left them behind.”

  “We chose to stay.” Mind speech answered him. “For we were of the last ones, those whom the Guardians knew. And—” For a moment Kadiya was wracked by a feeling of such pain and longing that she nearly flung up an arm as she would have warded some blow.

  “And, when those who closed the way and held against the Dark finally fell, we were left. We knew that it could not end that way. Greatness does not die, it can rise again. See, did we not have the truth of that, for here is this Noble One returned even as we dreamed it!”

  “Jagun”—Kadiya tried to settle him more comfortably—“the Hassitti believe that I am one of the Vanished Ones, though I have told them it is not so.”

  “You have come to us”—Gosel looked straight at her—“and the dreams were true. What is there to be done, Noble One, that you have returned to your people?”

  Kadiya remembered the sword still planted in the garden. There had been no release of that burden upon her return. What then was to come?

  6

  The gray skies of the storm season still hung over the city, though the fierce rains and winds did not beat within. More of the Vanished Ones’ magic, Kadiya thought.

  She stood at an upper window looking out over the somber rows of buildings, though here and there the cloaking vegetation softened outlines and curtained walls. This was not the palace of the great hall wherein she had first faced the Hassitti, but rather a tower behind that hall to which she had been escorted—and to which Jagun had been borne at her insistence.

  There were furnishings of a sort here. Plainly it and the two other rooms on this story had been a living suite for someone of rank, and the Hassitti had worked to maintain it as best they could.

  A bed, oddly shaped to resemble a half shell (perhaps even its material being formed of the crushed substance of such) stood on a round dais. There was a short legged table with the same opalescent gleam. By that was a pile of mats covered with richly stitched cloth, much faded but still intact. Lamps with shell shades stood lit to battle shadows at the far side of the room.

  The paintings on the walls were here all of a shoreline so finely depicted that were it not for three windows which gave upon the real world, Kadiya could have believed she looked out upon moving water. Along its edge birds waded and beds of reeds grew all abloom with golden spikes of flowers.

  There was a large chest also. This had been eagerly flung open by two of the female Hassitti who had been among her guides, to display folds of glitter studded fabric. In one small section lay necklaces, arm bands, and other gem-set wear.

  Olla and Runna had insisted that this was all to be Kadiya’s and they had shown disappointment when she did not immediately take the opportunity to change from her worn travel clothing into such proffered splendor. The girl had brushed aside their suggestions, far more intent that Jagun be established as comfortably as possible on a pallet of mats where she could keep him under eye.

  It was only a short space ago that Tostlet had lifted the bandages to inspect the Oddling’s eyes. Moments later, Jagun roused to look at Kadiya with the joyous exclamation she had half feared she would never hear:

  “King’s Daughter, I see!”

  He had clutched forceably at her arm
as she knelt beside him, drawing her farther down. There was such joy on his face as she had never witnessed before.

  “It is well, oh, Farseer, it is well!”

  Tostlet came in, a cup in her claws. “Let this one drink.” She offered the cup to Kadiya almost as if she believed that Jagun might not accept it from her. “Drink, and sleep, for now only sleep is needed.”

  Drink he did, as Kadiya gently pushed him back on the mats, his eyes already closing. They still looked swollen and the flesh about them was puffed.

  She waited until she was sure that he was asleep and then she sent the Hassitti away. If they had indeed entrapped Jagun in that place of punishing light, at least they had been willing to nurse him once he had come forth. Her anger was gone. They might well have been only obeying some archaic pledge when they sent Jagun, or allowed him, to enter the maze. She could not fault them for that, not now.

  The maze itself awed her. To have set such a trap was far beyond any learning she knew. Perhaps even Orogastus at the height of his power could not have wrought a like defense. And how long ago had it been set and empowered? If the Hassitti had not put it to use, had it been left so even from the days of the Vanished Ones?

  Kadiya rubbed her hand across her forehead. So many questions, so many puzzles. This day had made her more and more aware of how ignorant she was. Haramis was Archimage. Magic was Haramis’s concern, not hers. Perhaps instead of seeking mysteries in the mountains her sister should have come questing in the swamp mires.

  Wearily she left the window. It was night and all the fatigue and terrors of the day had worn her down. She came to stand once more beside the chest Olla had left open. On impulse she plucked out the first of the folded materials lying within.

  It shook out in brilliant glory as she held it, the ends dripping to the floor. Dripping because it was overlaid with a myriad of crystal drops, some of which chimed together softly as the folds moved at her touch.

  The garment was not unlike those tattered robes Kadiya had seen on several of the Hassitti, except this was pristine in its glory. It might have been fashioned yesterday. The sleeves were long and full, gathered in by crystal bands at the wrists. There was a complicated fastening partway down the front where cords wove back and forth around knobby buttons of crystal.

  In color it was white, yet the folds, as Kadiya turned it to examine it closely, showed touches of other faint hues, as might be found in iridescent interiors of shells. She held it up. Long—it had been meant for someone taller—yet it was plainly wearable, not about to fall to pieces if she did choose to don it.

  Making up her mind, Kadiya folded it over her arm, and, after another glance to make sure all was well with Jagun, she went into the next chamber. As in the outside fountains she had seen, a clear stream of water issued from the mouth of a carven fish-like creature into a basin fully large enough to hold her body.

  Kadiya laid the robe to one side, tugged at the fastening of her scale mail. Then she caught sight of a figure to one side. Startled, she had dagger in hand before she realized that she was gazing into the largest mirror she had ever seen, one reaching from floor to roof. That miserable creature she faced there was herself. From the wild mass of her tangled hair, ragged on top where she had freed herself from the serpent vine, to her water soaked boots, she looked worse than a polder laborer at planting time.

  Quickly she discarded her swamp-stained clothing to settle into the bath. The water was warm, even as it had been in the fountain. Kadiya recognized the purpose of a row of boxes on a wall shelf at hand level, one of the pleasures she had known in the Citadel after a long day swamp exploring with Jagun. Here were stored squares of thick moss which, when squeezed and wrung in water, left herb scented suds in her hands. Kadiya washed away the traces of slime which had soaked through her clothing and darkened her skin, and then attacked her hair, though the suds stung in those places on her scalp where the vine had pulled.

  There was a towel of woven reed waiting and she dried herself vigorously before she lifted once more that royal robe. Clothing of state she had known all her life, had had to wear under protest at times. But in all the treasures of her mother’s wardrobe there had never been anything as fine as this.

  It was too large; she had to take up her belt, clean it as best she could with wet moss and wipe it dry in order to gather those crystal laden lengths close enough. The sleeves she had to roll well up, and even though she tugged much of the rest up through her belt the skirt trained out on the floor and threatened to trip her. Kadiya turned again to survey herself in that revealing mirror. And made a face at the reflection.

  Against the clear white her face and hands looked coarse and dark. There was nothing to be done for her ragged hair except to hope that it would grow out. Such finery did not become her. Yet, looking down at the discarded clothing on the floor, she could not bring herself to shed the glory of the robe and redon her own.

  In fact she did not even want the fine stuff she now wore to brush against it. Still to leave it here in a tangle would not do. She would have to find a way of cleaning it, of somehow sewing the tears, ridding it of all the staining.

  Kadiya drew the garments together and carried them at arm’s length back to the outer room, laying them on a mat in the corner. Surely Olla or Runna would be able to show her how to deal with them.

  Scattered mats of a soft cream-yellow were protection for her bare feet. But the heavy belt across the fine stuff irked her and she went again to rummage in the coffer, bringing forth a scarf of what seemed to be silver, beaten silk-soft, which she twisted into a girdle. Her dagger she transferred to that. For too long she had lived with it close to hand to discard it now.

  There was a soft murmur of sound from beyond the slatted curtain which formed the door. Hassitti—she could pick up their mind patterns, even though she did not try to delve into their thoughts.

  “Come.” Sweeping the length of the robe to one side so she could move, Kadiya watched Olla enter bearing a tray with silver plates, and behind her Runna carrying one of those lamps which gave forth the spicy smells.

  They both ducked their long-snouted heads in her direction as they padded across to place their burdens on the table.

  Olla motioned to the table and then to Kadiya, her chittery voice like that of a grass insect, low and somehow cheerful. Kadiya obediently took her place (with some difficulty because of the bulk of the robe) on the mats. It was Runna who hastened to help her spread out that entangling skirt, while Olla uncovered two bowls and poured water into just such a goblet as those Gosel and she had used.

  Again the food was fruit and a bowl of thickened soup-like substance, but this time they had provided her with an overlarge spoon. Kadiya found it good and she ate heartily, smiling and nodding her thanks to the Hassitti.

  There was a curious dream-like quality to all of this. Kadiya ate and drank. The spicy smoke from the lamp made a floating wisp in the room as the dark increased and the smaller shelf lamps did not banish growing shadows. When she had done and the tray was borne away by the Hassitti, Kadiya went to sit beside Jagun. He was sleeping quietly but to be this close to him brought back reality.

  The girl slipped fingers back and forth where the robe covered her crossed legs. Certainly it was real to the touch, just as this room appeared to be entirely solid.

  Yet she was uneasy. It was as if she had stepped into some action of which she knew no detail at all. Before, her mission had seemed concrete: to visit the garden and rid herself of her portion of the Great Talisman, then to discover—to learn—as the mysterious veiled one had promised at their meeting. But learn what? She could not now even begin to guess.

  Mage powers? No, those were for Haramis. Establish a swamp kingdom? She reached for no crown, was no rival to Anigel. There was an emptiness within her which she must learn to fill. But with what?

  At no other time had one of her kind been made so free of the mire lands. Nyssomu and Uisgu had come to battle at her summons—or the k
nowledge that she had raised the ancient strength had brought them. The mires and their ways she knew as she believed no one else of the Ruwenda blood could claim—even the most venturesome of traders.

  Yet this was a land of secrets upon secrets. Perhaps even a lifetime could never make one entirely knowledgeable.

  The Archimage Binah had kept to her tower at Noth—yet she must have known much. If in truth she was one of the Vanished Ones chosen to be Guardian here—then all the past would be open to her, that tattered past the Hassitti strove to hold together.

  Kadiya closed her eyes slowly and with determination. She had been able to communicate with Gosel, know at least the surface thoughts of others of his kind. Now, she wanted what she had come here to find: that One who had promised her learning.

  Just as she had tried to govern her thoughts to reach the Hassitti, now she strove to build up the mind picture of that figure which had been largely a pillar of mist, to call—

  Kadiya tensed, but she did not utter the cry which had almost reached her lips. She cut thought, shivered, her hands going unconsciously to cover her ears.

  In her ignorant reaching she had touched something so dark, so full of menace that it was like a blade rising to her throat. She opened her eyes.

  There were shadows in plenty. She made herself face each quarter of the room in turn, search for the smallest hint of source of that threat. But there was nothing. Only Jagun cried out and his hands beat up into the air as if he warded off an enemy. Yet he did not rise nor open his eyes, and Kadiya thought that he must still sleep, that what she felt must have reached him as a troubling dream.

  Dream! The Hassitti had mentioned dreams, suggested that they had been guided by them—

  Only so far had her thought traveled when there came a sound from the doorway and she recognized Gosel by thought pattern as she might have known him by face.

  “Noble One!” His mind send was imperative.

  “Come.”

  He had bundled up his trailing shawl so that he might move the faster as he burst through the door curtain.