The Crown of Silence

by Storm Constantine

  Serena halted the wagon at a cross-road, where five paths divided like the arms of a star and disappeared into a gloom, speared by rays of sunlight. ‘I go this way,’ she said, pointing to the path ahead. ‘Which way you are you going?’

  ‘Give me a moment,’ Tayven said. Five paths, six choices. One of them would mean staying where he was, sitting at the centre of the cross-road. He could not contemplate going back. The die roll was two; a path to the right. ‘I get off here,’ Tayven said, and jumped down from the wagon, pulling his back pack after him.

  ‘Be careful,’ Serena said and clucked to the oxen once more.

  Tayven watched the wagon trundle away into gold-shot shadow. He hoisted his back pack higher onto his shoulder. Down this path, if fortune was truly on his side, he would find the man he’d known as Khaster Leckery. He could throw the die now to determine how Khaster might react to their reunion, but ultimately, at this final stage, Tayven wanted to leave some aspects to true chance. Neferishu had advised him to do that. Tayven smiled. He had judged the queen wrongly. When he’d gone to dine with her that night, he’d got drunk too quickly, able to think only about what the die had predicted. He wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, and had crudely groped for the queen’s hand across the table, while uttering inane yet lascivious remarks. Neferishu guessed what was on his mind, but fortunately did not divine the true reason. She believed he was only trying to please her. ‘You know I love you, Tayven,’ she had said. ‘But I don’t want your pity. If you can’t come to me with equal feeling, then you mustn’t come at all.’

  He’d felt humbled by her honesty. ‘I have forgotten how to be human,’ he had said, and drunk more wine. He realised he felt nauseous.

  Neferishu shook her head at him, bemused. She led him from the table to a couch and there held him close against her body. ‘I have dreamed of this so often,’ she murmured.

  Tayven, to his horror, had found he was weeping. Neferishu soothed him, stroked his hair. She didn’t press him to speak, but somehow the words came tumbling out. It was like vomiting. He would speak until he was retching on dry words. Even in his stupor, he retained enough control not to say anything Maycarpe would want kept back, but he could talk about Khaster, about Cos, about his journey to come. He said that he would use a die to find the man he’d once known.

  ‘There must come a time,’ Neferishu had said, kissing his forehead, ‘when the die stays in your pocket. Remember that. If you find him.’

  Tayven had felt completely comfortable nestled against her. This was what love must be like, to feel so safe. Had he ever really known that? Before he fell asleep in her arms, Tayven had said, ‘I love you, Neferishu.’

  The glade was exactly as Tayven had imagined it from Shan’s detailed description. There was the water wheel, turning slowly, and the great oaks that surrounded the crooked narrow house like a fortress. There was the yellow horse, tethered by a long rope, cropping the startling emerald lawn around the mill pool. Skeins of perfumed smoke drifted in the still hot air. A few birds called, but their songs were languid, as if everything drowsed in the summer afternoon. Tayven paused at the edge of the glade. He felt like an interloper, someone who would shatter the peace of this idyll, bring the past, and all its traumas, crashing back. It was the only time he’d felt tempted to turn around, return to Akahana, and tell the others his journey had been unsuccessful. What right had he to be here, like some black-winged, doom-bearing angel? Khaster had found a life; it had been given to him. He had found some kind of peace.

  A man came out of the house, and before Tayven could melt back into the greenery, he knew he’d been seen. He froze. This was undeniably Khaster before him, older, yes, and his hair had receded somewhat, but other than that there appeared to be little change. The expression on his face was not that of shock, nor even recognition. He seemed faintly puzzled, irritated. Tayven did not, could not, move. This was not Khaster, he told himself. This was Taropat. He must remember that.

  Taropat was carrying a large wicker basket, which appeared to be full of vegetable scraps. This he placed carefully on the ground and began to walk purposefully towards the forest. When he was only a few feet from Tayven, he performed strange and complicated gestures with his hands and uttered a few words in an unknown language. Perhaps it was a curse. Tayven still did nothing. Taropat screwed up his face in vexation, and performed the gestures again. Then he made a dismissive gesture. ‘Stay then, it means nothing to me.’ He walked back towards the house.

  ‘Khas!’ Tayven called, involuntarily.

  Taropat froze, and for some seconds did not look round.

  ‘Khas,’ Tayven said again, in a lower voice.

  Taropat turned. ‘What are you?’ he hissed.

  Tayven lowered his back-pack to the ground. ‘It’s me,’ he said. ‘Tayven Hirantel. Do you remember?’

  Unexpectedly, Taropat laughed. ‘What do you want this time?’

  Tayven raised his hands. ‘Nothing. That isc’ He was lost for words. Not even the die could have predicted this reaction. He couldn’t have thought of it as an option.

  Taropat folded his arms and nodded appreciatively. ‘Yes, you’ve got it well. The ageing, the suggestion of travel. Convincing. I’m impressed. Now tell me what you want.’

  ‘Shan told me you were here,’ Tayven said. ‘We met in Akahana.’

  Taropat raised his eyebrows. ‘Why continue this? Why not get to the point? Show me your true self if you dare.’

  ‘This is my true self,’ Tayven said.

  ‘Ah yes, a ghost. I see. Some might be convinced by that. But wouldn’t a ghost resemble a person’s appearance at the time they died?’

  ‘I’m not a ghost. I’m not dead. Like you, I survived what happened in Cos. You are more of a ghost than I am.’ Tayven took a step forward. ‘Listen to me, Khas, Taropat. I was taken from the Magravandian camp as good as dead. Bayard’s people left me in the wilderness, where I could have died, but the Cossic resistance found me. I have lived with them ever since. A man named Lord Maycarpe, who is your brother’s employer, sent Mewtish trackers to find me – and you – but was successful in that they only found me. I have spoken recently to Merlan, and to Shan. That is why I’m here.’

  Taropat turned away abruptly. ‘If you lie, go now, and there will be no retribution. If you lie and continue in this, I will destroy you, as you know I can. If you speak the truthc’ He shook his head. ‘That could not be possible.’

  ‘I speak the truth. Look at me, and tell me I’m lying.’

  Taropat turned back, stared at him with narrow eyes. ‘The elden of this place seek constantly to deceive me. They are tricksters. When I first came here, they plucked an image from my mind, and have used it to torment me. I have seen you here a thousand times.’

  ‘No, you haven’t. Look at me. Do I truly resemble what any spirit could mimic? Like you, I’m older. I’ve changed. Elden know nothing of the human heart. Their illusions have no real substance.’ He held out his hand. ‘Touch me now and tell me I’m not real.’

  Taropat hesitated, then reached out and briefly squeezed Tayven’s fingers. He smothered a laugh with his hands that turned almost to a sob. ‘I’m dreaming,’ he said.

  ‘No.’ Tayven lifted his luggage once more. ‘Take me into your house. Shan has told me about it. I want to see it. I’m hungry. Give me food. Then we can talk. We have much to discuss.’

  Inside, the house was dark and cool, and smelled pungently of herbs. A gargoyle-faced grim sat eating coal atop the stove. Tayven sat at the table, while Taropat prepared a meal. He felt disorientated and light-headed. It seemed inconceivable he was in Khaster’s presence again. This man looked like Khaster, yet in many ways he was entirely dissimilar. If anything, this was what Khaster should always have been; tougher, more humorous.

  Taropat chopped salad at the table. ‘I should have known the consequences of sending Shan to Akahana would be more shattering than we imagined,’ he said. ‘
I made him swear not to tell Merlan of my existence, but apparently he has broken that vow.’

  ‘Not exactly. He told only me. I was the one that spread the news, if you like. Shan was not responsible for it. He did tell Merlan eventually, but only because he had no choice. Your brother would have found out from Maycarpe, otherwise.’

  Taropat sighed. ‘I suppose this means I’ll have to move on. Once the news gets back to Magrast, someone will come looking for me.’

  ‘It won’t get back,’ Tayven said, helping himself to some slivers of onion. ‘Not from Maycarpe. Merlan will keep silent also.’

  ‘How thoughtful of them. Why? What do they want from me? I can only assume their silence has a price.’

  Tayven shrugged. ‘I won’t deny it. There is work afoot. I too am involved in it, somewhat against my will. Almorante knows I’m alive, but so far I’ve managed to avoid him. Did you know Valraven Palindrake has, at last, coaxed King Ashalan from hiding? He will be at Magrast by now, being cosseted by the empress and sized up for a suitable bride. Cos has finally fallen, Khas.’

  Taropat continued to chop the salad, and for some moments said nothing. Then he sighed. ‘I feel as if I should play a role, be fractious and demand my continued privacy. But that is a lie. Whatever I said a moment ago about moving on, I’ve always known that one day I’d have to go back to reality, make my mark. Taropat gave me the means to make a difference – his knowledge. Some part of me has always craved the opportunity to use it.’

  Tayven laughed uneasily. ‘This seems too easy! Won’t you put up a fight? I did, if only for show.’

  Taropat shook his head. ‘No. The day I took Shan from the ruins of his village was the first step towards involving myself in the world again. This day was inevitable.’ He smiled. ‘But I’m glad fate has given me the gift of seeing you alive and well. That I did not expect.’

  ‘I wondered whether you’d be pleased to see me or not. I was your nemesis, despite everything else.’

  ‘Oh, I know that, Tayven. I put my newfound talents to good use when I first came here. You were never what I thought you were, but if anything I respected you more for it. Still, the picture I got was incomplete. One thing I could never be totally sure of: in Cos, were you working with the resistance to assassinate Bayard?’

  ‘Not with Ashalan’s people, but another faction, yes.’

  ‘What a pity you failed.’

  ‘That is an understatement. I wasn’t careful enough. Neither were my colleagues. You and I paid the price for it.’

  Taropat nodded. ‘But look at us now.’ He pointed at Tayven with the chopping knife. ‘Would you rather be who you were? I wouldn’t. For me, suffering has brought riches.’ He lowered the knife and stared out through the window. ‘Sometimes, I dream of Caradore and my life there, and when I wake, I know it could have been perfection. But here, in Breeland, I have found a peace I could never have found at home. I have true friends here, who have helped to heal me. Shan was the final medicine. When I watched him walk away from here, a sense of tranquillity settled over me. I sensed I had to rest, and enjoy every moment, because a time would shortly come when I would have to leave. Life would become difficult again for a while, but I knew I’d have the strength to face it. I’d never have thought the universe would send you back to me first, the evidence of you, the proof that things can turn out well. Seeing you alive assures me that darkness doesn’t always win.’

  ‘Perhaps I was always part of the darkness,’ Tayven said.

  ‘Not to me,’ Taropat replied curtly. ‘But that is the past. We are both different now.’

  ‘You, very much so.’

  Taropat arranged the salad on plates with meat, cheese and bread, and poured two tankards of ale, cold from his cellar. To Tayven, the simple food was like a banquet. He tried to imagine the Khaster he’d known methodically preparing a meal and couldn’t make the picture stick.

  ‘So,’ Taropat said, ‘what does Maycarpe want? Is there any reason why I should get involved in his plans?’

  Tayven nodded, swallowed. ‘Yes, I think so. He’s a slippery eel, but I’ve got his measure. If anything, he’s an idealist. Leonid will not remain on the throne in Magrast for much longer. Things are moving fast. If the right action is taken at the right time, astute people will be able to affect the future.’

  ‘The fall of the Malagashes? I thought Maycarpe was loyal to the throne.’

  ‘He’s loyal only to himself. He wants change, mainly for self-preservation. The Malagash dynasty is crumbling. Neither Bayard, Almorante or Gastern will accept any of their brothers taking the throne. There will be civil war, which will weaken the structure. At such a time, an enterprising group could seize control.’

  ‘In order to continue the empire? That seems self-defeating, if not becoming what you resist.’

  ‘No, the empire is doomed to fall, as all empires do. But Magravandias will be up for grabs. By that, I mean that reason could prevail there, a fair king could make a fair country.’

  ‘Who do you see on the throne?’

  Tayven took care not to let his gaze betray any stray thoughts. ‘I don’t think that really matters yet. Someone will emerge in time. Perhaps even Shan, whom you have groomed for the role.’

  Taropat laughed. ‘Hardly. I sought only to manufacture an irritant, a force of chaos to undermine the empire. It was a foolhardy and arrogant idea. I never really believed it could happen, but I felt I had to do something. I wasn’t ready to get out there myself.’

  ‘Now you are?’

  ‘That depends on where and why.’

  ‘What if I said to you Recolletine?’

  ‘I’d say I wish it were somewhere else. Why there?’

  ‘Almorante started something there with me, but it was never completed. When we went there together, you hardly got beyond the starting post. We need to go back and do what has to be done.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I think because it will make a difference. There’s talk of artefacts and magical lessons to be learned, but I believe it would merely be the act of will and determination to complete the quest that would have the effect. It would change us.’

  Taropat nodded. ‘I understand that.’

  ‘Shan must go with us. Maycarpe has this idea about a kind of magical trinity; the mystic, the warrior and the bard. They are the archetypal companions of the true king.’

  ‘Sad we have no true king, then. Who are you, mystic or bard?’

  ‘Bard, apparently. You are the magus. Strangely enough, I saw our roles the other way round last time. I was the great magician and you were the poetic bard. But Taropat has changed that. I accept it willingly. Shan is the warrior, young, perhaps naïve, but full of a righteous integrity. He is more of a priggish, chaste champion than a bloodthirsty berserker, but likeable, for all that.’

  ‘His youth makes him righteous.’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘Where does Merlan fit into this?’

  ‘Maycarpe was planning on giving him the role of the mystic until he found out you were still alive. I knew it could never be Merlan, Khas. I had to tell Maycarpe the truth. It would have been a travesty otherwise.’

  ‘Do I detect a sense of animosity towards my brother?’

  ‘Less so, now. I resented him because he lived while you did not, and he looked too much like you. It was strange, and totally irrational, but I felt he’d stolen your life somehow.’

  ‘That was unfair, but I feel absurdly flattered. More meat?’

  ‘Thanks. You’ll do it, then? Come to the Seven Lakes?’

  ‘It’ll be dangerous.’

  ‘Of course, but we’ve all been trained and guided by the best possible influences. We are cleverer than the Malagashes. Also, I believe this is meant to be. We cannot fail. Well, if we do, it will be through our own weaknesses, not the strength of others.’

  ‘What is your motive?’ Taropat asked.

  Tayven grinned. ‘Re
venge, but not only that. I like to think I have more noble ideals too, such as a desire for justice and fairness. Yours?’

  ‘If I am honest, I want to prove myself to others,’ Taropat said. ‘Like you, I feel the Malagashes should be wiped from history, but most of all, I want to see Pharinet’s face, her surprise and shock. I want to free Caradore, and for all of the people there to know I was involved.’

  ‘Valraven Palindrake?’

  Taropat uttered a low growl. ‘I want him discredited. I want him to return to Caradore. Let him lord it over the Palindrake lands, but with everyone knowing who and what he is.’

  ‘So will that involve both he and Pharinet being stripped naked, shaved, and driven through the streets with whips?’

  Taropat laughed. ‘Now, there’s a pleasant thought.’ He adopted a serious expression. ‘Totally inappropriate for an enlightened soul, of course.’

  ‘Dance on both sides of the coin,’ Tayven said dryly. ‘It’s the only way.’ He paused. ‘Do you still want to be king of Caradore?’

  Taropat screwed up his face, and for a moment a strange expression crossed it. Tayven knew the words that followed it would not be the total truth. ‘No,’ Taropat said. ‘At the end of it, if I can, I want to return here and grow old, until it’s time for Taropat to find a new body.’

  ‘What about the ones before you?’ Tayven asked. ‘Are they still part of him, of you, or didn’t they survive the transition to the next incarnation?’

  ‘If they exist within me, they are mere whispers,’ Taropat said. ‘Khaster isn’t immortal, only Taropat is.’

  ‘It must be strange. I’d like you to describe it to me in detail.’

  ‘I will. When do you want to return to Akahana?’

  ‘Shortly. But not immediately. We should talk more first.’

  After they’d eaten, they sat before the stove, and Tayven told Taropat all that had happened to him since they’d last seen one another. In return, Taropat described his own life’s events. ‘So much has happened,’ Tayven said. ‘We could never have guessed it.’