Enchantment's Reach (Book 1)

by Martin Ash

  Issul leaned forward and took up the pot of tea. She began to pour into the two mugs, the greenish gold liquid tumbling in a rippling column from the spout. And something strange happened. As the tea touched the base of the first mug the fluid column suddenly turned sinuously upon itself, as though it had gained a life of its own. Like a viridescent snake it twisted, flew from the mug and sped towards the rafters above.

  Issul cried out in astonishment. The steaming liquid looped itself into knots above her head, then untwined, spread into a thin hovering pool, suspended in the air. Without warning it rushed at Issul's head.

  Instinctively, she threw herself back in her chair to avoid being scalded, but too slowly. The tea splashed into her face, but as it did so it transformed into a cloud of tiny emerald-and-blue butterflies, their wings shimmering, which fluttered about her head and away.

  "Oh!" Enchanted, Issul reached out to touch one. The butterfly and all its companions became sparkling dust which fell in a shower to the floor and vanished.

  Issul laughed and clapped her hands in delight. "Oh marvelous! Pader! Marvelous!"

  Pader Luminis beamed at her, his cheeks flushed, and slapped his knee. "You see!" he pointed at her. "You laugh. You are happy again. You come from yourself and this dark mood that oppresses you. Now is the time to talk. You know, sweet Issul, I have always said that one should meet grave matters with a light spirit if one does not wish to be dragged further down. Remember that."

  "But how did you do that, Pader?" asked Issul wonderingly.

  "It is nothing."

  "To a Murinean, perhaps."

  "One doesn’t have to be Murinean to create fripperies such as these. It was a simple illusion, coupled with misdirection, that is all, without real value. Had you been able to remain my student you would have mastered such fancies long ago. Now, the tea, my dear, if you please."

  Issul poured again, and this time the tea remained tea. She smiled at Pader Luminis, who sipped from his mug, gave a sigh of satisfaction, then said, "Now, it’s time to speak, I think."

  Issul's smile diminished as she recalled her reasons for coming here, and one hand went to her brow. "Something has happened today which I believe may threaten the future for all of us. Pader, I need you to tell me all that you know of Enchantment and its strange denizens, of the Karai and the war that threatens and, most particularly, of the True Sept and the creed its members follow."

  "You have several days to spare, I take it?"

  Issul shook her head. "I have so little time. Even now I should be with my children, readying them for their beds, and with Leth. But. . . . tell me what you can in whatever time we have now, and be aware that I shall be returning to you as and when I can for further discussion. Most particularly, I want to know about the Legendary Child."

  Now it was Pader Luminis who frowned. "The Legendary Child? As described in the teachings of the True Sept?"

  "And anywhere else. I need to know everything possible."

  Pader Luminis put down his mug. He nodded thoughtfully to himself, settling himself back in his chair and steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "Very well."

  *

  When Issul emerged later from Pader Luminis's apartment high in the White Eaglet's Tower, her head was ringing with all that she had heard. She would have stayed longer, so avid was she to hear all that Pader knew, but old Pader had been growing tired and she could see that the task of remembering and recounting so much was taking its toll. He had advised her, too, that to continue would require his researching in some depth the histories of the land, the various factions and their beliefs, and more. He didn’t want to present her with unreliable information, preferring to refresh his own memory before continuing. Pader had promised to commence his researches first thing in the morning, he had warned that certain details she had requested were inaccessible even to him. They had agreed that Issul might return at any time, without notice, as and when she needed further guidance.

  Issul did not know whether she would need to return. With what she had so far learned she felt as though the ground had begun to fall away beneath her. She walked like a hollow creature, pale and drawn, trying to persuade herself that what she had done almost four years earlier could not possibly have the consequences she now feared. She had acted for the good, in innocence, not knowing what other choice she had - apart from the unthinkable. It was only afterwards that the real possibilities had become known to her, and she had endeavoured to put them from her mind. She did not want to contemplate what they might mean, and persuaded herself that her fears were hysterical and unfounded. For it all seemed so far-fetched.

  But no longer. Now her worst fears had virtually been confirmed.

  Could she tell anyone? Leth? Issul felt suddenly terrifyingly alone. Dear Leth, what will this do to us? Will it drive us apart? And more? Am I guilty of bringing about the ruin of us and all we love and hold dear? Am I, ultimately, the destroyer of Enchantment's Reach?

  Issul wept in silence as she made her way back. She couldn’t tell. King Leth, her husband whom she loved so dearly, could not know. At least, not yet. Not until she had wholly ascertained the truth and worked out whether there was any way of undoing what had already been done. She would have to go in the first instance to the village of Lastmeadow and the home of Ohirbe and her husband, Arrin. She would question everybody, take whatever steps necessary to locate the old woman who Ohirbe reported to be showing such an unnatural interest in her young ward, Moscul. And her companion too, if it was at all possible: the young man who had been with her at the poolside. Issul would spare no effort. It was imperative that she discover what these two knew, and what they intended.

  And she had to talk to the child, Moscul. It was possible that Moscul might be able to provide her with some of the answers she sought.

  Into Issul's mind sprang an image of her dead sister, Ressa, Mawnie's twin. Oh Ressa, I did this for you, just as you asked. For you and for Mawnie. We could not have known. That is my only excuse. We could not have known!

  II

  Arriving back at her apartment Issul cleaned her face of the makeup she had applied earlier and donned garments more appropriate for the Queen of Enchantment's Reach. She sat for a few moments in silence, trying to calm her thoughts and rid her mind of the turmoil that filled it, employing techniques taught her over years. Presently, a little less fraught, she rose and left her rooms.

  She had seen no sign of Lord Fectur since her return from Overlip. This vaguely surprised her. She had anticipated a visit. He would certainly have received a detailed report of her activities from his men and would be thirsting to know what she was up to.

  Unless he already knew! For a moment the thought chilled her, then she put it aside as improbable. She trusted that Fectur would have made no attempt to apprehend Iklar, with whom she had spoken at the Tavern of the Veiled Light. To do that would have been reckless without a small army at his disposal within Overlip, inviting almost certain failure and bloodshed. Fectur was neither reckless nor a fool. Even had he been able he would have known that to arrest Iklar would serve him nothing. Iklar was little more than a messenger, with no direct access to Grey Venger. Fectur would wait and watch, biding his time, gathering intelligence, setting up his targets, anticipating the right moment to strike, as was his habit. But Issul, though relieved at his absence now, could not help but wonder whether it presaged something more menacing.

  She entered the nursery where her children, Prince Galry and Princess Jace slept soundly. In a cot in the same chamber young Lir, the daughter of Mawnie and Duke Hugo, also slept. Issul had hoped in her heart to find her children , to spend a few precious minutes with them, but she had known that it was hardly likely to be so. She enquired softly of the night-nanny as to how they had spent their day, then sat beside them, holding their hands and gazing lovingly and regretfully at their sleeping faces. The nanny told her that King Leth had been in only a few moments before and had left word for Issul that he was going to dine. To
Issul's further enquiry she replied that Lir had not seen her mother, Duchess Demawndella, all day.

  Presently Issul rose, kissed her children and niece tenderly goodnight, and made her way to join her husband.

  Seeing Leth, smiling as he took her hands and embraced and kissed her, Issul felt her tensions slip away for a few short moments. She had not seen him since early morning, and then it had been brief as they rose from their bed and got ready for another day of duty and formality. As she relaxed now in his strong arms, her head on his shoulder, she thought of past days. Leth had been a dutiful and passionate suitor. Dashing, considerate, gallant, ambitious even then, and a man much absorbed in work and state duty, yet he had pursued her as though his life depended upon it. Those had been carefree, intoxicating days compared to now; they had laughed and played and loved and dreamed and loved some more. Issul's love for him had not diminished over the years - nor, she believed, had his for her - but the time in which to express it grew less and less, and close though they were they no longer shared exclusively the same world.

  Issul watched her husband as they sat together to eat, noting the dreamy look of his eyes. It had been one of the qualities that attracted her to him, a sense of entertaining a warm and inviting inner world. It kept him slightly detached - only proper for a future monarch - but fascinating, and helped confer upon him a quiet confidence and resoluteness.

  But more recently, that dreaminess had taken on a different quality. His eyes were glassier, more inwardly penetrating, darkened around their rims. Leth seemed haunted, even fragile in a way she had never seen before. She wondered what had changed in his inner world, for it seemed it was no longer a place where he might always find sanctuary and certainty.

  Questioning a house-servant on her way here Issul had learned that Leth had spent some hours locked in his study earlier in the evening. It was at these times that Leth became most inwardly-inclined, and she recalled again the strange blue lucence she had seen on that single occasion seeping beneath his door. She said nothing, for she knew he would evade her questions and might become impatient if she persisted. But with his accession to the throne it had become plain that Leth had taken on burdens he could not discuss, even with her, and this concerned her.

  Secrets. There had been a time when they had kept nothing from each other. Nothing at all. Now. . . with an acute inward pang she thought of her own inner fears, which she dared not share with him. It had once been so different.

  "How was your conference?" she asked.

  Leth waited as a servant filled his goblet with dark red wine. He had spent much of the day with Hugo and others of his most senior advisors, debating the Karai crisis. "Inconclusive," he said. "The Karai are encamped barely seven leagues from Giswel. If they keep to their previous pattern, they have every intention of moving against us."

  "But you’re not sure."

  "It would be madness to assume otherwise."

  "Can we meet them, man for man?"

  "You know we can’t. Not without help. Even then. . . . The reports Hugo has received he considers reliable without question: Karai have monsters and winged-devils in their ranks. These creatures must be from Enchantment. We can only infer that the Karai have elicited the help of one of the gods of Enchantment. It’s unheard of."

  "And is there still no offer of assistance from the Mondane Kingdoms?"

  Leth shook his head. "They won’t help us. I received a missive today from the last of the northern kings, Galomard. He, like the others, declines to involve his nation in a dispute he sees as having nothing to do with him. He states that his decision is unequivocal and irrevocable, and plainly wishes no further communication."

  "Theyre mad!" Issul declared. "All of them! Can’t they see what will happen if Enchantment's Reach falls to the Karai. They will be next, each of them, one by one."

  "They fear us, my love. You know that. Our proximity to Enchantment marks us as tainted, outworlders, contaminated by powers and mysteries Mondane knows nothing of. They fear curses, possessions, demonisation if they venture here. There’s been nothing but the most elementary contact between Enchantment's Reach and the Mondane for more generations than I know."

  "But I’ve heard talk of the arrival of foreign soldiers," Issul said.

  "A few brave or penniless mercenaries, odd stragglers and would-be heroes. They trickle in in answer to my call, but they’re not enough to make a difference."

  "Winter's approach may be our most reliable ally, then."

  Leth shrugged, chewing his food without great conviction, then dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "We don’t know the minds of the Karai. And winter isn’t so close. If they struck quickly they could make serious inroads, certainly into Giswel."

  Issul weighed this, then said, "The Karai prince, Anzejarl - has there been any communication with him?"

  "None. I have proposed sending a delegation to speak with him, with the hope of arriving at a peaceful resolution. The idea was met with unanimous disapproval."

  "On what grounds?"

  "On the grounds that Anzejarl is not known to be a man - or a Karai - given to discussion. He would likely take me hostage, or return my head in a bag."

  "You? Leth, you would go?"

  "The Karai are a proud people. Anzejarl would deem it a gross insult were I to send someone of inferior rank. If it was to be done, it could be no one but myself."

  "You mustn’t go." Issul reached out and grasped his hand. "Leth, I won’t allow you."

  Leth gave a disconsolate smile. "As I say, my proposal met with disapproval. And indeed, it was considered premature. As yet the Karai have committed no offence against Enchantment's Reach. It is their proximity and infamy which lead us to act almost as though war had already been declared."

  "There’ll be no declaration," Issul said with certainty. "We will be attacked, if that is Prince Anzejarl's design. He has never declared war, simply struck with little warning. Are there no other options open to us?"

  In a low voice, tinged with cynicism, Leth said, "There is the Orb's Soul."

  "What is that?"

  "A lost artifact; a powerful effectuary. Or a figment of an overactive imagination."

  "I have never heard of it."

  "Nor I, until very recently." He gave a mirthless smile. "My love, do not take me seriously. I spoke half in jest. This object probably does not exist, and even if it does it can’t help us. It’s an example of the kind of thing fearful minds reach for in times such as this."

  "But if it exists. . . how can it help Enchantment's Reach?"

  "I don’t know. Issul, put it from your mind. Forget it. The Orb's Soul is a product of hearsay. The story I was told is that it was lost eons ago, within Enchantment."

  "Enchantment?" Issul's face fell.

  "You see? Even were its location known it would remain unreachable."

  "Who told you of this?" asked Issul after a moment's thought.

  King Leth hesitated, lowering his gaze. "It is just wild talk passing around. As I said, such notions are the common refuge of desperate, frightened minds at times like these."

  "But who precisely did you hear speak of this object, Leth? I would like to talk to them."

  "No one!" Leth's irritation was plain. "I have told you, it is just wild rumour. One among many. There are airy saviours in abundance queueing up to bring us salvation - for a price. Don’t you know how my time is taken up just now with farseers, miracle-workers, nod-heads with channels to the gods and who knows what else. I spoke lightly, please let’s speak no more of it."

  Issul fell silent, deeply concerned, wildly speculating. Ordinarily she would, like Leth, have taken little note of notions such as this. There was nothing new in ideas of magical artifacts, powerful relicts and rare and fabulous treasures lying within Enchantment. But in her talk earlier with Pader Luminis, Pader had made lengthy reference to Enchantment and what was known of its history. He had referred to artifacts of the gods, among many other things. He had not been specific,
and certainly had made no mention of anything called the Orb's Soul. More, Pader had stressed that the stories he was relating were fables, legends, ancient tales with little or no foundation in historical fact. But his words had greatly excited Issul's imagination, taking her back to her childhood and later years as a student, when she had sat enraptured by stories such as these.

  Why had Leth mentioned this now? Specifically, this one object out of so many? Could there be something? She made a mental note to speak to Pader.

  Ah, but Enchantment. . . . It was impossible, she knew it. No one could go there.

  She fell back, forlorn and annoyed with herself for having permitted herself to be led by imagination and desperate hope.

  Presently, breaking the silence between them, she said, "Mawnie believes the True Sept may be making overtures to the Karai."

  "Mawnie," said Leth, almost derisorily, then changed his tone. "Yes, it may well be so. Hugo has said as much. But it is nothing I am not aware of, and ultimately it can make little difference." He looked searchingly into her face. "I understand you were in Overlip earlier."

  Issul felt a slight prickling warmth in her cheeks. Fectur had not been remiss, then.

  She nodded.

  "At the Veiled Light."

  She nodded again, thinking furiously.

  "Why?"

  "I wanted to try to contact Grey Venger."

  "Why?"