Sky Trillium

by Julian May

  “The Star Men threatened to maim all of my precious daughters if word of my abduction got out,” said Queen Jiri.

  The elected officials of Okamis and Imlit nodded in unison. They had all made marriages with the royal house of Galanar, wedding three of Jiri’s brood of nine princesses. President Botal said, “Every one of us was snatched through those weird magical trapdoors—or whatever you call ’em.”

  “We call them viaducts,” said Orogastus courteously. “Please be seated, Queen Anigel, and we will begin our conference.”

  Naelore led Anigel to the empty chair. Then the Star Woman drew up the hood of her silvery robe to cover her flaming hair, took a small object from an inner pocket of her garment, and stationed herself at the Queen’s back.

  “Lowborn conjurer!” cried King Ledavardis, starting up from his chair and lifting his chained fists threateningly. “It will do you no good to hold me captive. Do you think the sovereign nation of Raktum will ever accept you as its overlord? Not until the Three Moons turn to spiny melons!”

  He would have continued his tirade, but Orogastus frowned and made an impatient gesture. Naelore abruptly stepped away from her position behind Anigel’s chair, lifted the slender metallic device she held, and tapped the King’s shoulder with it.

  Ledavardis’s scream shook the rafters. The other prisoners started with shock, then hurled exclamations of outrage at the calm-faced Star Woman. The young King dropped back into his chair, gasping.

  “Whether or not Raktum will accept me as its liege lord is not a point we will debate now,” Orogastus said, when the disturbance diminished. “It suffices that its ruler and all the rest of you are now my prisoners. You will remain here in Castle Conflagrant, hostages to the good behavior of your nations, until a certain plan of mine matures.”

  “What plan is that?” Queen Jiri inquired innocently.

  Orogastus said, “We will discuss its details in due course, Majesty, when we are all better acquainted.”

  “Hmph,” snorted the Duumvir Prigo. He was a spare individual with crafty brown eyes and the prim manner of a scholar. “How long do you intend to hold us here, wizard?”

  “It may be for some time, Excellency,” Orogastus admitted.

  “Until the leaders of the other countries are also captured?” Hakit Botal persisted. “And the government of the world dissolves into chaos?”

  The smile on the face of Orogastus vanished. “The Archimage Haramis has unfortunately given warning concerning the viaduct locations. I think those rulers who are still at liberty will be more wary of abduction from now on. But no matter. I have the most important of you in my power.”

  Yes, Anigel thought. Except for one: my own husband, Antar! The other rulers who remain free are either weaklings, like old King Fiomadek of Var—or else, like Yondrimel of Zinora and Emiling of Tuzamen, already inclined to ally with the sorcerer …

  The pale eyes of Orogastus held a fearsome, implacable gleam. “You will all remain here as hostages, insuring that your subjects do not hinder my activities, until the Sky Trillium announces my great victory to the whole world.”

  The captives stared at him in silence. Finally the Eternal Prince Widd shook a bony finger at the sorcerer. “Look here, young man! I can put up with life in a clammy dungeon myself, and I daresay the other men can, too. But my poor wife Raviya has been a martyr to sciatica in that damp cell of hers. If you’ve any decency at all, you’ve got to give the women better quarters.”

  “That can be arranged,” Orogastus said equably. “Up until today, the detention of all of you save Queen Anigel, who was recovering from injuries, has been made deliberately arduous so that you would recognize the seriousness of your situation. But from now on—provided that you assent to certain simple conditions—you will all be given more pleasant rooms and treated as honored guests rather than ordinary prisoners. It is up to you to choose whether you will spend your stay here in attractive apartments befitting your rank, or dwell in windowless cells, in the company of common criminals.”

  The heads of state murmured tentatively among themselves. Ledavardis hauled himself upright once more, saying nothing.

  “If you agree to the terms of parole,” the sorcerer said, “you will have the freedom of Castle Conflagrant. But believe me when I tell you that it is not only escapeproof, but also impossible to storm. No power beneath the Three Moons can rescue you.”

  Anigel took hold of her amber pendant on its fine golden chain. It was warm, and seemed to give comfort. “What would you have us promise?”

  “Swear that you will harm no one in this place, and that you will comport yourself in a dignified manner so long as you remain here.”

  “Very well.” Anigel’s words were scarcely audible. “I do swear, on this sacred Black Trillium.”

  Orogastus put the question to each of the others in turn. All of them gave their solemn word except the Pirate King, who lifted his ravaged face and spat at the impassive sorcerer.

  The Star Woman brought forth from her robe another magical implement different from the torture device and this time thrust it at the neck of Ledavardis. He gave a profound sigh and collapsed senseless across the table.

  “Leave him for the gaolers to remove,” Orogastus said, rising. “Naelore, please show our other guests to their new accommodations. The rest of you Guildsmen come with me to the observatory.”

  “Yes, Master,” chorused the seven Star Men. Still bearing their odd weapons, they followed the sorcerer as he left the room.

  “This way,” Naelore commanded, and so great was the force of her personality that the shackled rulers paraded meekly after her without a word. They proceeded to an upper floor of the central keep, where handsomely furnished suites opened off a central corridor lit by window-wells. As each prisoner was shown to an apartment (Widd and Raviya shared the largest one), Naelore removed their golden chains.

  “Servants will be assigned to you,” she said ungraciously, “and you will be instructed about our domestic routine. You may go anywhere in Castle Conflagrant save those regions where the guards forbid you. At night, you will be locked in your rooms. If you attempt to escape or violate your parole in any way, you will be confined forthwith to the dungeons.”

  Anigel was the last to be given rooms. As her cuffs were unfastened she spoke in a gentle and offhand manner. “You have said that you were deprived of your empire. How did this injustice come about?”

  Naelore gave grudging answer. “I was the eldest, but our late father, Emperor Agalibo, declared my next younger brother Denombo heir to his dominion, with my second brother Gyorgibo to succeed him if Deno died without issue. Father did this despite the fact that I am wiser and of higher spirit, saying that the vassal kings of Sobrania would never accept me because I am female.”

  “I see. But in certain nations, this is the immutable custom.”

  “It was not always so here!” the Star Woman cried with great rancor. “More than two hundreds ago Sobrania had an empress—that same Naelore the Mighty for whom I was named—and her reign was a time of unequaled prosperity. Sobrania’s hegemony then extended throughout the entire Southern Sea! Galanar was naught but a province of ours, and the spineless chieftains of Imlit and Okamis knelt at the Empress Naelore’s footstool. Even proud Zinora paid us a yearly tribute of a shipload of their finest pearls.”

  “So you hope that Orogastus and the Star Guild will help you to unseat your brother Denombo?”

  Naelore’s eyes were burning. “I do not hope for it, I expect it—and within three short days!” Without another word she spun about and departed, slamming the door.

  The Queen stood still for a moment, deep in thought. Then, rubbing her wrists absently, she wandered about the suite, finally standing at the open window of the tiny sitting room and looking out at the strange countryside. The sun had just descended, leaving a louring sky covered with gray clouds that were touched with crimson beneath.

  The view was stupendous. The castle of the Star Gu
ild was perched on a steep-sided hill over four hundred ells high that reared up in the midst of a vast bowl-shaped depression. Tall crags formed the basin’s distant, jagged perimeter. Its floor was nearly level, having large outcroppings of black rock and sickly greenish areas that seemed to be bogs. A forest clothed the flanks of the central eminence crowned by the castle, but it seemed as though wildfire had swept through its lower reaches, leaving scorched snags and burnt vegetation in its wake. A tortuously winding trail stretched from the base of the hill through the depression, apparently continuing on to the rocky rampart several leagues away.

  “How desolate!” Anigel said to herself. She took hold of the trillium-amber amulet at her neck and found herself shivering. “Lords of the Air—grant that I will not have to bear my triplet sons in this awful place! Help me find a way to gain my freedom.”

  She heard a sound behind her and turned to see Queen Jiri of Galanar standing in the open door. “Poor sweeting,” murmured the kindly monarch. “I’m afraid there is scant chance of that. The sorcerer chose the locale of his stronghold too well.”

  “Is this castle truly guarded by dark magic, then?”

  Jiri came and stood by the window with Anigel. “Oh, there is sorcery enough in the domain of the Star Guild … but none is needed to insure the impregnability of Castle Conflagrant. When I was in the dungeons, my Sobranian guard—his name was Vann—was willing enough to tell me all about the place in exchange for my rings and other baubles.” She held up one plump forefinger. “See? I have only this ruby left. I also learnt much from a chap called Gyor in the cell beside mine.”

  “Gyor? You say his name was Gyor? What manner of man was he?”

  “I could not see his face, since he was immediately next door, nor did he speak of himself and why he had been imprisoned. But he did entertain me with many a spooky tale about the ghosts that inhabit this old castle, and he also possessed considerable knowledge of the way in which Orogastus had got hold of it two years ago.”

  “But how is the castle escapeproof,” Anigel asked, “if no sorcery is involved?”

  “Look carefully at the region below. Do you see or hear any living creature?”

  Anigel studied the landscape carefully. It was utterly silent. None of the famous birds of Sobrania sang, no voors, looru, or other flying predators took to the air, no insects or beasts announced the fading of the day. The only moving thing was a very thin mist that hovered over the bogs, expanding slowly until it crept up through the region of blasted skeletal trees on the lower slope, halting at the point on the hill where the forest remained healthy.

  “I perceive no animal life at all,” Anigel said.

  “Because nothing can live down there,” Jiri said. “Seeping up from underground is a poisonous miasma. Not the mist, which is harmless, but an invisible vapor with only a faint smell. It blankets the floor of the basin just below the burnt trees. Strong winds may blow it away from time to time, but it always returns, unseen and deadly.”

  “But there is a road,” Anigel protested. “And I myself remember being brought here in some kind of wagon—”

  “Do you also remember fire?” Jiri asked.

  Anigel frowned. “Why, yes.”

  “That is the only way in which the poisonous atmospheres may be foiled. They are flammable, you see. When the Star Master or his henchmen would cross the basin, they ignite the exhalations. Flaming geysers appear, and after they have burned for a few minutes sweet air takes the place of the noxious. One can then travel the road in safety. But it is important to move speedily, for heaven help anyone who has not yet reached the castle’s hill or the outer ring of crags when the flaming geysers die! The flow of subterranean gas is irregular and may dwindle to nothing at any moment, whereupon the fires go out and the invisible lethal seepage resumes, filling the basin anew. Heavy rain can also extinguish the fires. The common people are mortally afraid of Castle Conflagrant, which was once the secret retreat of a long-dead Sobranian Empress. No one dares to come here save the minions of Orogastus. Aside from the very real peril of the geysers, legends say that the place is haunted by the phantoms of persons this Empress caused to be burnt alive.”

  “Look down there,” Anigel said. “They are opening the main gate of the castle! Someone must be venturing out.”

  “Then let us watch,” said Jiri.

  Side by side, the two queens stood at the open window. The dusk thickened, filling the misty basin with impenetrable shadows, and the clouds turned violet in the west. Because of the angle of the castle’s curtainwall and the intervening groves of healthy trees, they could not clearly see the progress of the party descending.

  It was a stunning surprise when the gas ignited.

  A flattened globe of dull vermilion light suddenly appeared at the base of the hill. An instant later the women heard a sharp detonation, then a prolonged fizzing, as of fireworks. The initial fireball sent out blue horizontal tentacles that split into myriad branches, racing in all directions and staying rather low to the ground. A second explosion rang out, then others both great and small, crackling and thundering while the blue fire-net brightened and grew into a sheet of golden radiance covering the entire basin floor. No sooner had the incandescence swelled than it vanished. In its place were hundreds of flaming geysers, surging red-gold fountains that danced and spurted around the hill of Castle Conflagrant like living things, silhouetting the skeletal burnt trees and reflecting in the darkling bog waters.

  “There they go,” Queen Jiri said, pointing. “Great Goddess—it’s a small army!”

  “And Orogastus and the Star Woman Naelore are leading it,” Anigel stated with conviction.

  Fast-moving fiery dots, torches carried by a train of riders urging their beasts to a full gallop, threaded an intricate path among the stationary blazes of the geysers. Anigel watched enthralled until the host vanished in the distance. There seemed to have been several hundred mounted riders and a number of wagons as well.

  “Now you see,” Queen Jiri said, “why escape is impossible. Even if it were possible for us to get out of the castle, we could never cross that basin. We would either suffocate, or signal our escape to our captors by igniting the flammable gas. It’s hopeless, as my cellmate Gyor assured me.”

  “Perhaps not.” Anigel spoke so quietly that her voice was barely audible. She took hold of her trillium-amber, the glow of which brightened as her fingers touched it. “Do you see this amulet? It is a magical thing that may help set us free.”

  “Then why did Orogastus allow you to keep it?” the older Queen asked bluntly.

  “For one thing, his people were unable to take it from me. But more important, he does not understand its power, which is not at all like his own sort of enchantment. From the time we were newborn infants, my triplet sisters Haramis and Kadiya and I have worn these drops of amber, which contain a fossil flower of the holy Black Trillium. Our amulets are symbolic of our destiny and also protective of our persons. They guide us on our life-path and show the way if we become lost. If our lives are endangered by magic, the amber finds a way to save us. I myself have gone invisible with its help, and it will also open any lock if it is but touched to it.”

  “No!” whispered the delighted Queen of Galanar.

  “Yes,” Anigel said. “Of the Three of us who wear the trillium-amber, I am the least courageous. But I will do my best, and if the Lords of the Air permit, my magic will effect our escape from this captivity.”

  “Never mind asking permission of the angels,” Jiri said. “We should discuss the matter with our fellow-hostages.”

  “Assuredly. And we must do so soon, for I think we have a unique opportunity to escape while so many of the Star Guild’s force are absent from the castle.”

  Jiri made up her mind in a trice. “We’ll have a conference during dinner. I’ll go right now and begin passing the word, so that all will be present.”

  “Say nothing of your speech with that prisoner in the dungeon cell next to yours.
Am I right in assuming that the others did not know his name?”

  “Quite right.” Jiri’s face was both puzzled and expectant. “They were all too occupied with their own troubles to care about him.”

  “I think I know who this man might be, and why he was imprisoned. It is possible that he may be of great help to us.”

  Anigel explained. Then she outlined the escape plan that seemed to have come to her in a single burst of inspiration, while Jiri listened with narrowed eyes.

  “Magic,” the Queen of Galanar muttered when Anigel was done. “And uncertain magic, at that! … Well, sweeting, I’m game to try. But we may have our work cut out for us convincing the others.”

  Anigel continued to stand at the window long after Queen Jiri departed, watching until the fires began to gutter and shrink. One by one the flaming geysers winked out, and finally only a single tall blue-gold plume remained, swaying in the night wind like a spectral dancer.

  By the time a servant came rapping at Queen Anigel’s door to tell her that the evening meal was ready, the last geyser had also faded and died, and the region surrounding the castle’s hill had become a sink of poisonous darkness.

  17

  “But why must we make the attempt tonight?” President Hakit Botal of Okamis complained. “Why, we’re barely recovered from our stint in the dungeons! We haven’t even had time to reconnoiter the castle and find the best escape route.”

  “There’s only one way out, Son-in-Law,” snapped Queen Jiri. “The way we came in, through the main gate.”

  Anigel added, “And the reason we must try tonight is because now is the time our captors will least expect it: when you are newly released from your cells, and I have just awakened out of my enchanted sleep … and Orogastus and his force are lately departed to make war upon Emperor Denombo.”

  The seven hostage rulers strolled in a casual manner from the dining hall where they had just eaten the evening meal. Each one carried a pewter cup and a full bottle of the strong, flinty wine they had been served at table. Following the plan Anigel had outlined to them while they ate, they pretended to drink and laugh tipsily as they made a show of examining the feathered hangings and the pieces of exotic statuary that stood in wall recesses flanked by blazing cressets. All the while, they moved along a wide corridor toward the great staircase that led to the lower reaches of the castle. Only a handful of guards lounged at their posts in a lax manner, paying no special attention to the wandering captives. Few other servants of the Star Guild were abroad. Most of the diners had remained in the hall to drink and revel.