by Julian May
“Zoto’s Anklebones!” cried Sir Edinar. “What manner of loudmouthed beasts dwell here in Sobrania?”
“I was told it is only the famous birds,” Kadiya said. “I expect we’ll get used to the noise.”
Sir Melpotis looked about warily, gripping his sword. “Did you find any trace of the Star Men hereabouts?”
Kadiya shook her head. “Only their emblem, nailed to yonder tree. If they were here at dawn, they are certainly gone now. But I suspect that the reward offer was only a ruse. If the Glismak had tried to claim it, they would probably have been slain for their pains.” She also cast her gaze around, then said, “Ah. There is our guide, waiting for us as he promised.”
Because of the dense foliage overhead, even Kadiya’s exceptionally keen vision had been hard-pressed to locate the person standing close against the base of a tree trunk not ten ells away. He was tall and slender and his long-sleeved tunic and breeches were covered with interwoven feathers, mottled gray like bark. The pointed hat atop his grizzled head had a short brim at the front, from which hung a coarse-meshed veil that masked the upper part of his face. His lower features had been daubed with some darkish substance that obscured their lineaments. He did not move as Kadiya approached and gave greeting, speaking loudly to be heard over the clamor of the birds.
“Thank you for waiting, Critch. These are the friends I spoke of, who are also sworn to oppose the evil Star Men.”
Critch came away from the tree and lifted his veil, revealing features that were as regular as those of any human being, for all that they were pinched with suspicion. Only his eyes, huge and golden, and his three-digit hands, which clutched a sharp billhook with a long haft, revealed that he was of the Folk.
Kadiya introduced the others, finishing with Prince Tolivar, who had no qualms about asking the question the others were too diffident to bring up: “To what race do you belong, Critch? I would say you were of the Vispi, except that your eyes are not green.”
“I am a Cadoon,” the aborigine told the boy grudgingly. “The Vispi are our close kin, but since we have a greater admixture of human blood, we lack their supernatural talents and must earn our living in more humble ways.” He eyed the Prince with a scowl and turned to Kadiya. “Tell my why a young lad is part of a heavily armed spying party—and why both you yourself and this boy wear devices capable of wreaking tremendous magic.”
“I am surprised that you recognize that,” Kadiya said.
“My people are not so skilled in perceiving enchantment as are the Vispi,” Critch retorted, “but neither are we as purblind in such matters as some others … Lady of the Eyes, when I pledged to help you I believed that you were an ordinary human. But if you are an enchantress—”
“I am not much of one,” she said with a rueful shrug, “and my nephew, Tolo, is even less adept than I.”
“I will not assist sorcerers—even incompetent ones!” Critch pointed to the board bearing a painted Star. “Those villains have oppressed my people for nearly two years. They have even killed innocent Cadoon feather-hunters who dared come to this place, which used to be one of our prime gathering spots until the Star Men decided to claim it less than a moon ago. I am only here today because I chanced to see the Guild warriors who usually guard the site riding hastily away.”
“Excellent!” said Sir Melpotis. “Do you know where they went?”
“Nay.” The aborigine picked up a large knapsack from behind the tree and took a step backward.
“Were they true Guildsmen that you saw,” Kadiya asked him, “wearing Star medallions, or were they only henchmen?”
“Ask me no more questions! I want nothing to do with you.”
Kadiya held out both hands in a placating manner. “Friend, I am exactly as I told you earlier: a King’s Daughter of Laboruwenda, a nation far to the east, come searching for my sister Queen Anigel. She was abducted by the Star Men and may be held captive in this country. If you will take us to the capital, Brandoba—”
“I did not tell you I would do that.” The Cadoon spoke truculently. “I said I might show you the trail, which is a long and arduous one.”
“You also said there was a shorter way, by sail in your own boat.”
“Even if you were not sorcerers, I would hesitate to go to the capital. For weeks there have been rumors among the Folk that something terrible will happen in Brandoba during this year’s Festival of the Birds, which begins two days from now at nightfall.”
“What kind of rumors?” Kadiya demanded, greatly excited. “Do they have something to do with the Star Guild? Is the Emperor in danger?”
But Critch would not answer.
“Please reconsider,” she implored him. “Other rulers besides my poor sister were abducted by the Star Men. There is a strong possibility that the sorcerers plan to kidnap or even kill Emperor Denombo himself. We hope to warn him, as well as enlist his aid in rescuing my sister Anigel.”
“The Cadoon Folk are no great friends of the Emperor. Sobranian humans despise us, for all that they covet the feathers that we gather and sell to them. No … You will have to find your own way to Brandoba.”
As Critch began again to edge away into the undergrowth, Jagun stepped forward. “Wait!” he shouted over the uproar of the birds. “Do not be hasty. This Lady is no sorcerer and we are not villains. Please let me explain!”
Critch paused, but he still kept a firm grip upon his billhook.
Jagun said to him, “As you see, I am of the Folk, like yourself. The Lady of the Eyes, who is also called Farseer and Daughter of the Threefold and Princess Kadiya, has been my dearest friend since she was a small child. In our land, Kadiya is the Great Advocate and Champion of All Folk. For long years she has faithfully defended the Nyssomu, the Uisgu, the Dorok, the Wyvilo, the peaceable Glismak, and even the Skritek of the Mazy Mire in their disputes with humanity. Only a year ago the Lady made peace between the fierce Aliansa Folk of the Wind-lorn Isles and the human traders of Zinora. The Vispi of the Ohogan Mountains visit her abode as honored guests. The talisman that Lady Kadiya carries is not an instrument of dark enchantment but rather a symbol of her noble office. Even now it protects us from the Sight of the evil Star Men.”
“Can you prove the truth of this?” Critch said.
Kadiya made a wry face. “Given a place of peace and quiet, where we could hear ourselves think, I might call upon my other sister, who is the Archimage of the Land, using the speech without words. She would gladly ask her Vispi friends to vouch for me.”
The Cadoon pointed a finger at Prince Tolivar, whose coronet gleamed in the green shadows. “What about him?”
Kadiya sighed. “He’s a problem. But I swear that he will do you no harm.” She addressed her nephew. “Tolo, tell him so.”
“I swear it,” the Prince said. “Please help us. I would give my life to save my mother, Queen Anigel.”
Critch considered for some time and finally said, “I have finished gleaning the feathers here and I am ready to start back to my home on the seashore. You may accompany me if you stay out of my way and do not impede my hunting.”
“How far away is your home?” Kadiya inquired.
Critch shrugged. “A fair distance. When we reach the cliffs above the sea, you will have your chance to prove that you are truly friends of our kinfolk, the Vispi. Do that, and I may think again about helping you reach the Sobranian capital.”
They followed him through the noisy forest for many tedious hours, pausing from time to time while he gathered fallen plumage from beneath the great nest-trees and stuffed it into his knapsack. He did not pause when night fell, but continued on. Like all aborigines, Critch could see well in the dark, as could Jagun; but the weary humans were glad when the Three Moons rose, giving faint illumination to the narrow path.
It was in the dreary time before dawn that they left the jungle at last and ascended into a more open region of large-leafed bushes where the birdcalls were fainter and more musical. Suddenly the Cadoon cautioned th
em to stand still and wait. He went forward, knelt, and took from his belt a net no larger than a handkerchief, weighted at the edges with tiny stones. He cast this skillfully beneath one of the shrubs, just above the surface of the ground, and a high-pitched, furious chittering ensued. With great care Critch retrieved his prey, a tiny bird with a single long tail feather that sparkled in the waning moonlight as though it were sprinkled with infinitesimal diamonds.
“How beautiful!” Kadiya said.
“The vitt is the rarest creature in Sobrania,” Critch told her happily. “I have never known one in this region before. Usually they frequent the hot springs in the high mountain thickets, but it is true that deep snow has lingered there unseasonably of late.”
Using a pair of small shears, he clipped the sparkling plume and then set the bird free. It darted at his hand viciously, drawing blood with its needle-sharp beak before vanishing. The hunter only laughed, holding up his prize. “The feather-merchants of Brandoba will pay me enough for this to feed my family for half a year. You seem to have brought me great good luck tonight—or do I have your magic to thank?”
“Only your own skill,” Kadiya admitted. “Is the little bird harmed by the loss of its ornament?”
“Nay, only its pride suffers. Both Sobranian law and our own Cadoon religion insure that we feather-hunters do no injury to the birds. Most of the time, we gather plumage that is naturally shed. Only when we encounter great rarities such as the vitt do we make use of nets or sticky bird-lime.”
They continued on, and as the heavens began to lighten, they came out onto a rocky moorland. Finally, when Kadiya and her flagging companions felt they could go no farther without dropping in their tracks, they reached a rugged bluff overlooking a wide expanse of lead-gray water. On the far shore rolling hills were dimly visible, and beyond that jagged mountains rose in silhouette against the dawn-tinted eastern sky. A cold breeze blew from the sea and they heard the murmur of surf below.
“This is the greatest estuary indenting the Sobranian coast,” Critch said, “and on the other side lies Brandoba.”
“How many hours’ sail is it to cross over?” Sir Melpotis asked.
“At least ten,” Critch said. “Unfortunately, the winds at this time of year are light and unfavorable.”
“We are totally exhausted and we must sleep first,” Kadiya said, “but there is plenty of time. If trouble is likely in the capital, it would be safest for us to enter after dark, when the bird festival is actually in progress and the citizens are less likely to take note of strangers.”
The aborigine had long since stowed his billhook in a sheath on his back, but his body now tautened in defensive wariness. “I will take you nowhere, Lady of the Eyes, until you prove yourself to me. Do as you promised and call forth the Vispi, using the speech without words, else I will leave you here. The trail to Brandoba lies to your left, beyond the ravine. It will require at least twelve days for you to reach the city on foot, skirting the estuary, and you will come under the scrutiny of Sobranian officials when you cross the toll bridges at the Isles of Zandel.”
She ignored his hostile tone. “May my companions sit down to rest? I will then bespeak the White Lady, my sister, who will summon one of her Vispi friends to satisfy you.”
Critch inclined his head and muttered gruff assent. Kadiya and her party gratefully shed their heavy backpacks. The knights and Jagun flopped down onto the grass amidst sheltering rocks while Prince Tolivar stood by, watching his aunt with both curiosity and well-concealed fear. He knew she was certain to tell the Archimage that he possessed the Three-Headed Monster and had stolen the Three-Lobed Burning Eye.
Kadiya took the magical sword from her belt and held it by the dull-edged blade. “Talisman,” she intoned with confidence, “show me and all persons here present a vision of Haramis, Archimage of the Land.”
One of the conjoined dark spheres at the pommel of the dark sword split open, revealing a gleaming brown eye. Immediately the tall figure of the White Lady, clad in her shimmering pearly cloak and with arms outstretched, materialized in the air between Kadiya and the Cadoon. Critch uttered a cry of amazement.
“Sister, greetings!” Kadiya said. “We have come safely to the land of Sobrania, and I would make a request of you.”
The Archimage remained motionless and silent.
“Hara? Speak to me!”
The request is impertinent.
Before the chagrined Kadiya could react, Prince Tolivar said to her in a superior tone, “That is not really the Archimage, but only a lifeless image of her. You have made the same mistake that I often do and worded your request to the talisman wrongly.”
“Then,” she snapped in exasperation, “why don’t you use your own Three-Headed Monster and pose the question correctly?”
Tolivar’s expression changed to one of mortification. “I—I cannot do the bespeaking at all. It is a function of the talisman that has thus far eluded me. I’m sorry, Aunt. It was rude of me to correct you.”
Kadiya sighed. “Use a less snide tone next time, and I will welcome any help you can give me using these cursed things. I have not had my talisman in working order for four years, and I am badly out of practice … Burning Eye! I would speak to the White Lady across the leagues. Let me do so, and let us also have Sight of her.”
The simulacrum winked out and the talisman again spoke aloud: This is not possible.
“Why not?”
She is not in this world.
Kadiya felt her blood freeze. “What! Do you mean to say that my sister Haramis is dead?”
She is not dead.
“Where is she, then?” Kadiya cried in desperation.
The question is impertinent.
The Cadoon regarded her with stony skepticism, and Jagun and the Oathed Companions were aghast. Fighting to keep control of her dismay, Kadiya forced a smile.
“Well, I warned you that I was no true sorcerer. This magical talisman of mine was ofttimes balky and uncooperative even when I was well accustomed to its usage.”
“You might try to bespeak Magira,” Tolivar suggested.
“Hmm. That should be easy enough, since she is of the Folk and able to use the speech without words.” Kadiya took a deep breath. “Talisman! I would Speak and have clear Sight of Magira, the chatelaine of the White Lady’s Tower. Let her also be seen and heard by my companions.”
Instantly the Vispi woman seemed to be there, standing before Kadiya with a startled expression upon her beautiful face. She wore her usual filmy scarlet gown and jeweled collar. Her pale hair, with the graceful upstanding ears peeking through it, seemed to stir in the sea breeze.
“Lady of the Eyes,” Magira said. “How may I serve you?”
“Tell this person”—Kadiya gestured at the Cadoon—“who I am, and that I am no sorcerous ally of the wicked Star Men but a reputable leader come with my people in search of Queen Anigel.”
Obediently, the Vispi woman gave a brief description of Kadiya’s exalted position in Laboruwenda, and also confirmed the abduction of the human rulers. As Magira spoke, the feather-hunter relaxed visibly. So did the relieved knights and Jagun.
“I have tried unsuccessfully to bespeak the Archimage through my talisman,” Kadiya said to Magira, after the chatelaine had finished her reassurances. “Do you have any notion of what has become of her?”
“This is melancholy news indeed, Lady of the Eyes! Two days ago the White Lady passed through the viaduct that had swallowed Queen Anigel, thinking that it would lead her to the lair of Orogastus and his Guild. We have not heard from her since.”
“Haramis is not here in Sobrania,” Kadiya said impatiently, “else the talisman would have told me.”
“If she has been captured by Star Men, she may be detained in the same enchanted place as the Queen and the other kidnapped rulers. The Archimage’s own talisman refused to give her Sight of the missing ones, and she concluded that they were shielded by some terrible dark magic.”
“I s
uppose that might explain her silence. But why did my talisman say ‘She is not in this world’?”
Magira cried out in horror. “Ah, no! Tell me it did not speak thus!”
“Haramis is certainly not dead,” Kadiya made quick to say. “The Burning Eye assured me of that. But what could its words have meant?”
The chatelaine spoke with great reluctance. “Perhaps I should not tell you this … The sorcerer Orogastus came to my Lady in her Tower. She—she loves him in spite of herself.”
“I know,” Kadiya said tersely. “What of it?”
“She had thought him dead when he seemed to perish down in the Chasm of Durance, because her Three-Winged Circle said he was ‘not in this world.’ In actuality, Orogastus was rescued by the Archimage of the Firmament and held captive in the Dark Man’s Moon, which is assuredly beyond our reach and ken—out of the world. Might it be that the White Lady is there?”
“Holy Flower,” Kadiya whispered. “I think it is quite possible. The viaducts may have their point of destination changed by those who are adept in their use. But Haramis would never have gone to such a place on purpose without telling us! And why would the Man in the Moon take her against her will? He is supposed to be indifferent to human affairs.”
“Who can fathom the deeds of Archimages?” Magira said desolately.
“Thank you for your help,” Kadiya said. She dismissed the Vispi and turned to her friends. “Here’s another pretty mess! And my talisman is apparently helpless to tell me anything about it.”
Tolivar said, “Perhaps both of our talismans, working together, can do what a single one cannot.”
Kadiya’s eyes lit. “Let’s try it. Take my free hand, and with your other grasp the Burning Eye with me.” But the Prince held back, fearing to touch the sword now that it was bonded to her, and she said, “I give you permission! It will not harm you.”