Hearts in Cups

by Candace Gylgayton

  Inside they found themselves in a small, enclosed garden, facing a pavilion built of wood set in the center of the garden. They crossed the carefully trimmed lawn on flat stepping stones and mounted the two steps onto the pavilion. A broad-based lamp hung from a rafter, casting its light over the pavilion's floor. Indicating that they should seat themselves on the woven rugs that lay on the floor, their guide bowed and vanished into the darkness of the garden.

  Daffyd looked uncomfortably at Hollin as they sat down side by side. She sat with her legs tucked underneath her and looked, in spite of her worn, stained clothes and unkempt hair, serene and dignified. Impressed by the quietude that surrounded them, neither spoke. With a start, Daffyd's hand instinctively went to his sword again as a voice addressed them gently and a figure appeared out of the darkness at the opposite edge of the pavilion.

  "Greetings to you. How may I be of service to you who have traveled so long and so hard a road?" They observed a small, shrunken figure, dressed in the long grey robe that seemed to be the standard attire for the city's inhabitants, enter the pavilion to stand before them. A wispy cloud of white hair was visible under the hood and a polished stave of knotted wood was used to support the figure. Man or woman, it was impossible to tell from the voice, seamed face or loose garment. However, the eyes that regarded them belied the ancient lines of the face; large and bright, they were the colour of the sea at the setting of the sun. The voice too was unexpectedly youthful and musical, holding a hint of laughter in it. Coming closer, the figure nimbly lowered itself to sit before them and shifteted its eyes from one to the other of them. "Tell me, children, what do you seek here in the Citadel of Dreams?" Although heavily accented, the words were intelligible.

  "We have come in search of Prince Brian ap Gryffyd, whom we believe to be residing here." Hollin spoke clearly and courteously.

  "And who might you be?" The head was cocked to the side inquisitively.

  "I am the Duchess of Langstraad, and this is my paxman," Hollin replied, reluctant to give her rightful name to this stranger, however harmless it appeared.

  The ancient's eyes bored into Hollin's, assessing her as well as her words. They sat thus for many long minutes until the old one smiled and nodded. "He whom you seek is among us. You were not expected and yet, you must be expected since you are here. Not all may walk through the mountain's spine. I am called Oisan, Custos of the Citadel. You need not give me your names," the old one said, reading Hollin's thought, "though no harm would come of it. The hour is late and I perceive that you are both worn and hungry. We shall provide you with rooms to rest in and food to eat. In the morning when you are refreshed, I shall arrange a meeting between you and your prince. Is that agreeable?"

  Inclining her head, Hollin expressed her thanks. They rose with their host, who summoned a robed figure with a single clap of the hands. Brief instructions were given ostensibly for the well-being of the guests and Hollin and Daffyd followed yet another robed figure through the stillness of the mountain city's streets.

  They were given separate but adjacent quarters in a long, multi-storied building that proved to be a dormitory. Each small room was furnished with quilts and mats on the floor for sleeping and a tiny brazier filled with coals for warmth. On the deep window embrasures were basins and jugs of water to wash with and a small lamp of oil for illumination. Trays of wood were brought to them filled with food in clay containers. There were no wooden doors but weavings of muted colours hung at the entrance to each room. As throughout the city, silence reigned in these halls.

  Concerned for the duchess' safety, Daffyd offered to sleep across the doorway to her room. With a smile of gratitude Hollin declined, urging him to take advantage of the warm food and a bed within doors. Not entirely placated, he returned to his own room. Hollin washed herself as well as she could and ate the cooked grains and vegetables provided. She was almost numb with fatigue when she stripped off her outer garments and climbed beneath the soft quilts, hugging them to her. For a brief moment exhaustion and excitement warred within her, but exhaustion proved by far the stronger.

  In the next room Daffyd also lay down. He found the close darkness of the room, after many nights spent outdoors, to be slightly claustrophobic. Not entirely convinced that all was as peaceful as it appeared, he unsheathed his sword, laying it within reach. For a long time he lay in the intense quiet waiting for a suspicious sound. None was made and, in the end, sleep claimed him as inexorably as it had his leige-lady.

  Hollin awoke in a room she at first only vaguely remembered. The light that entered the room was cool and diffused. Reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort of her pile of quilts, she gazed at the ceiling and considered that the end of her quest was at hand. Like a slow current, she allowed her memory of the last few months to wash through her. Deep down, she was unsure as to the reception the prince would afford her. Knowing that such speculation was futile, she firmly pushed her insecurity from her mind. Against the odds, she had made it this far and she was determined to confront the next few hours with the same resolve with which she had tackled the mountains.

  Tossing the quilts aside she stood up, shivering slightly, and slung her cloak over her shoulders. Going to the window, she looked out. Down and down, the mountain seemed to drop beneath her until it faded into the mists that lay at its feet. The effect was dizzying and she found herself sitting on the windowsill to steady herself. "A window into forever," she intoned to herself and remembered the old one's reference to this place as the Citadel of Dreams. There was something more than a little dreamlike about this place, and she deemed it both a charm and a danger.

  The tinkling sound of a bell rung on the other side of the curtain broke into her thoughts. Murmured voices could be heard and then Daffyd's called softly to her. "Lady Hollin, food and hot water are here, do you wish for them to be brought into your room now?"

  Covering herself completely within the folds of her cloak, she bade them to enter. The curtain was drawn aside and two robed figures entered carrying trays. Vigilantly, Daffyd stood in the doorway watching them. Everything was set down for her and they gathered up the remains from the previous night. Saying nothing, they retreated from the room leaving Hollin to look inquiringly at Daffyd.

  He grinned. "One of them actually said a few words this morning," he announced cheerfully. "Someone will come and fetch us for an audience with the prince later today. Oh yes, and if you're interested in a bath, there is a room at the end of this hall used for washing."

  "Hot water? A real bath? You are wonderful, Daffyd!" He sketched a jaunty bow and left her to her breakfast.

  After eating, Hollin opened her pack and pulled out the bundle containing the riding garments that she had been wearing at the start of her journey. They were deeply creased and wrinkled but reasonably clean, having been scrubbed so at one of the rivers they had forded on their journey here. Shaking them out, she set off down the hall in quest of a bath. A small room with a floor that sloped to a drain hole in its center and a row of jugs filled with hot water turned out to be what was offered for bathing. With weeks of nothing but occasional immersions in icy rivers behind her, she was more than happy to pour the hot water over herself. A jar of soap had also been thoughtfully provided along with a clean, albeit thin, towel. She scrubbed herself down twice, taking extra time to make sure that her long hair was thoroughly rinsed out. Deliciously clean, dry and dressed again in clothes more befitting her rank, Hollin braided and coiled her hair while waiting to receive an invitation to meet with the prince.

  The sound of distant bells was herald to another of the robed figures appearing to escort them to their audience. Daffyd had also taken the opportunity to avail himself of the hot water and joined her with hair still damp and curling from his ablutions. He had brushed and cleaned his clothing as well as he could, and achieved a presentable appearance. With his sword girt at his side he strode a half pace behind Hollin as they again were led through this strange place.

  The cit
y, washed in sunshine, was as beautiful as in the evening shadows. Glazed roof-tiles danced in the light, reflecting back the intense blue of the sky. The architecture of the buildings, while simple, was pleasing to the eye. An airy quality was evident everywhere, even in the narrow streets that would suddenly emerge from behind a building and grant a view of the mountains or the glorious sweep down into the vales at the mountain's feet. The uncanny quiet was as yet unbroken, though those people they did pass looked at them with unconcealed curiosity.

  They were shown through the same gate into the garden with its pavilion that they had visited the night before. However, they saw immediately that the person sitting on the floor of the pavilion with the hood of the robe pulled well forward, leaving the face in shadow, was not their odd host of last night. As they entered the pavilion, the seated person indicated with a movement of the hand that they were to sit facing him. Hollin sank gracefully onto the rugs, spreading her skirts around her, and Daffyd sat behind and to her left, cross-legged with his sheathed sword across his knees. Daffyd, who had spent weeks in close company with the duchess, detected a slight nervousness in the set of her regally erect back.

  The figure before her raised his hands and drew the hood back off his head, letting it settle on his shoulders. Candidly she studied him, though her own face remained serenely composed and her hands continued to lie quietly in her lap.

  It was not a handsome face but it was a strong face, with a resolute jaw and chin that bespoke stubbornness. Dark hair, a shade between black and the deepest of browns, showing strands of silver, was brushed back from a high forehead. Seated, it was hard to guess his height, but she thought that he would be tall. His skin was pitted and sallow and there were fine lines around his eyes and mouth. His demeanor was quiet and grave, the lack of animation making his features the more unattractive. However, the eyes that met and measured her under their black brows, were a light clear blue and in their depths she thought that she detected the glint of a spirit at odds with his unlovely appearance. Abruptly he lowered his eyes and when she glanced at them again, Hollin had the distinct impression of a fire quickly and efficiently banked.

  "I was told that you have come asking to speak with me but gave no names. I would ask you to name yourselves now and state what it is you wish of me." His voice was firm, pitched low, expressing aloofness.

  "You are Brian Gwydian ap Gryffyd of House Sandovar?" He acknowledged the title with a slight nod. "I am Hollin Morwen Medicat Lir, Duchess of Langstraad. This is my paxman, Daffyd ap Blewyns. We have come at the behest of the Pentacle Council to find you." The prince said nothing but she noticed that the guarded expression in his eyes had intensified.

  "Are you aware of the fact that your father has been dead for the past five years and your grandfather, Lord Percamber, has been acting as regent for you?" He responded with a curt, affirmative nod. "Lord Percamber is beginning to feel the weight of his years and wishes to step down from his office. He has been waiting many years for your return." She paused and waited for a reply. He remained impassive and veiled his eyes by studying the floor.

  Setting impatience aside, she continued speaking. "There is a need to resolve and reestablish the kingship of the Pentarchy. There is the strongest threat of civil war; indeed, such an event may already be in progress." After outlining the political situation in the Pentarchy as it stood three months ago when she left Pentarin, and relating the details of the last session of the Pentacle Council, she went on to describe the ambush of the royal embassy originally sent to find him and her conviction that it was carried out by the Earl of the Inner Ward, most probably at the behest of the Duke of Mirvanovir. He listened in polite silence while revealing nothing of his own thoughts or feelings. Indeed, after she had completed her narrative of the recent events in the Pentarchy, he sat immobile and impassive for many minutes.

  Finally, in a voice filled with reluctance, he asked, "What is it that you wish of me?"

  She was momentarily bewildered by his evident obtuseness. "To return to the Pentarchy and assume your duty as High King."

  He let his breath out through his nostrils in a long, controlled exhalation. That which he did not wish to hear had been said. He regarded the woman sitting opposite him in her crumpled skirts, with her mass of copper hair crowning her head and her fearless grey eyes fixed on him. She was not what he had expected and he recognized a resolve in her that quite possibly matched his own. "I have my doubts about that course of action," he admitted at last.

  She shook her head, her lips pressed together in a firm line. "I am sorry that you are doubtful, but you must return."

  "I need time to consider the situation." The eyes that were raised to meet hers were stern. "I will deliberate on all that you have told me and give you my reply in three days."

  Dismayed at the prince's obvious unwillingness, Hollin held her own frustration in check and inclined her head graciously in acceptance and prepared to rise.

  He lifted his hand. "Before you go, I have one last question. How did you find this place?" The question was asked with genuine puzzlement.

  Hollin felt the blood in her cheeks grow warm. "With this," she replied simply, holding out her hand with the great ruby ring on it. He raised his eyebrows in recognition and lowered them as quickly into a slight frown. "It is the Heartstone of Sandovar and it is attuned to you." She explained about the crystal being resonated by his grandfather and the Viscount of Treves, and how the two objects had been arcanely joined in order to create a type of compass to find him. He nodded at her explanation, though neither of them alluded as to how the ring originally came to be in Hollin's possession.

  "But it only brought us as far as the valley beneath the wall of stones. It was the snowcat that showed us the way out of the valley," she concluded.

  His voice sharpened. "Snowcat?"

  "Yes, while we were camped in the valley and looking for the trail to continue, it appeared on the cliff above us and showed us the path."

  "How far did you follow it?"

  "We lost track of it when we entered the tunnel that brought us to the ice caves. By then, of course, there was no mistaking the way." She cocked her head to one side. "You seem very interested in the animal."

  He was startled by her perception and unaccountably disconcerted by it. "They are creatures rarely seen," was his response. A sudden longing possessed him to end the audience and be alone with his thoughts. Abruptly he said, "You may now return to the rooms that have been assigned to you. You are both free to walk about the city as you will. As you have observed, there is a rule of silence that is kept by all who live here. Speaking is only permitted in one's own room, at the communal dining halls or in gardens such as this. I enjoin you to not disturb the other inhabitants of the citadel. Food and anything else that you might need will be brought to you in your rooms. Rest now from your journey; I will send for you in three days time and you shall know my answer."

  The prince breathed easier after the duchess and her paxman had retired from the garden. His mind was clouded; thoughts and emotions swirled about him. Things that he had assumed to be expunged from his soul were proving to have only lain dormant.

  "I am of two minds, it seems, about my future." Brian ap Gryffyd stood pensively looking out of the window, his back towards his mentor and friend.

  The voice that spoke was cool and gentle, but showed no intention of placating him. "You are not of two minds, but with one mind see two paths. I believe that you know what you shall do, but you are reluctant to set your foot upon that path, for the choice is irrevocable once you do."

  Brian turned away from the window, his face rueful. "I thought that my course was fixed when I returned here."

  "No," the head of the diminutive figure, seated comfortably on the floor, shook in admonishment. "When you left the courts of your father, you left many things open and unsaid. You did not alter your destiny. And now it has come to claim you." Oisan's bright eyes followed Brian's movements benevolently.


  "And the snowcat?" Brian stopped his pacing.

  "The snowcat is but a symbol, one of many. Perhaps it did lead them here; the path is not accessible to all who put their feet on it. The ring, the arcane crystal, the snowcat: all have combined to bring your choice to you." A thin, timeworn hand sketched a graceful movement in the air. "There are two yokes before you, you can only shoulder one of them."

  Brian came and sat down before Oisan. "Yes, there are two yokes. One I would willingly continue to wear, for it is well-known and easy to accept. The other involves the opening of old wounds and involving myself in a world that I have rejected."

  "Ah, but it has not rejected you. In fact, it comes in search of you." There was much humour in the observation. More soberly, "You have grown much since you arrived here. When you first came, you were angry and unhappy with yourself. Having endured much hardship as a captive, you returned to your home thinking that such ill-treatment had made you wise. It had not. And, when you found yourself still unable to take up the burdens expected of you, you came here."

  Brian bowed his head in acknowledgment. "Living here has healed the anger and pain that I carried home with me. Yet I have remained because here I have had the liberty to live my life without the constraints of my birth. To return to the Pentarchy is to involve myself again in those things that I fled," Brian said with a degree of agitation. "They have come with my father's crown and expect me to now wear it."

  "Such headgear can be heavy," Oisan agreed.

  The prince flicked a smile at the old one. "I cannot envision myself engaging in the petty games and trivialities that my father called "statecraft." I was not able to submit to it when I was younger, and I will not now."