A Glimmer of Guile

by Mary Patterson Thornburg

  But it would come.

  "Vivia," she said at last, "I want you to stay here with me tonight. We've talked the afternoon away, nearly, and I have other matters to attend to. But I do want us to converse more. Oh...technically I suppose I should say. You told me you weren't asking for instruction, but you certainly deserve instruction. Special instruction. The matter of Tedor, for instance. There's no way for you to deduce, let alone guess, how that can be done, but it's something you should know. I'm sure you're not thinking of setting up shop in competition with me."

  We both chuckled merrily.

  "But of course I don't expect to go on practicing forever. And I have no wish for such a secret to...retire with me. You are already like a daughter to me, my dear. That should be part of your inheritance."

  I shuddered inwardly. According to Tada, Orath had told Riga that she thought of her as a daughter. Now she was using that line on me, as if I were no more sophisticated than the poor girl she'd first ruined and then killed. If she really believed this, I supposed, it was to my advantage. Even so, the words were horrifying.

  "So," she continued, "I'll have a room made up for you. If you've no objection of course. And I'll send someone to your inn for your other things, and for your servant. You'll want her here, won't you?"

  Another inward shudder. How I hoped that Kenath had obeyed me and headed eastward, out of harm's way. "Yes, indeed I will. Thank you so much, Orath."

  She disappeared for a little while, taking Raym with her. She returned alone and showed me to another room of the apartment. This one too was beautifully furnished, all done in black, brown and white, the colors of my sparrow suit. None of it was illusion. Across the sumptuous curtained bed was a soft robe of light wool, floor length, high necked, long sleeved, the color of cream, made apparently just for me, and no illusion either. I changed into it, thinking about the dressmaker I'd hired.

  After a considerable while, Orath came in without knocking, followed by the girl she'd employed earlier, who bore a large trunk on her frail back, my belongings from the inn. The Lady nodded.

  The girl allowed the trunk to fall to the floor, and then stood cringing until Orath dismissed her angrily.

  "Your things," Orath said. "Your servant was not to be found. Apparently she has run away. I took the liberty of having the landlord questioned, and the girl's parents. She's not," she repeated, "to be found." She drew a breath and composed herself. "You can manage alone? Or shall I send someone to assist you?"

  Her anger was convincing, and I pretended to share it. "Stupid girl. I wonder what she stole." I pretended to calm down. "Oh, well, she was afraid of me anyway. Afraid of any witch. I'm better off without her. And no, thank you, Orath. I can manage very well by myself." I smiled and laid my hand on her arm, which took a lot of nerve. Her anger had been real, and now I felt her relax, too. She hadn't been able to find Kenath. A weight lifted from my soul.

  "My girl will bring you a meal," Orath said. "And I must leave you now for the night. But in the morning I shall send for you quite early, and I want you to look your best." She gave me a terrifying smile. "I wish to introduce you to my patron."

  The Red Prince. Maltuk. I thought again of Riga.

  When my dinner arrived I looked at it, sniffed it. It seemed all right, and I was hungry. Anyway, I was already in this thing up to my neck, so I'd have to trust Orath this far. She wanted a fight, if not a fair fight, at least one in which she could invest some real energy. She would hardly tie my hands behind my back. Beating a drugged adversary might not be beneath her, but it wouldn't be much fun, and at this point in her life Orath was looking for some fun. Or so I hoped. I ate the meal and, pulling the bell rope, sent the tray back. After an hour of pacing, I decided I'd not been poisoned.

  I eyed the bed, however, just as suspiciously. I'd slept for only a little while the night before, I was going to have to be on my toes tomorrow, and I was exhausted. I had enough self-discipline to stay more or less awake for several more hours, but shouldn't I get some rest now in preparation for battle? I couldn't decide. If I slept, I'd be vulnerable.

  As I considered, there came a small tap at the door. I froze. It came again. "Yes?" Nothing. Then the repeated tap. I took a deep breath, opened the door.

  Raym stood there, bent, dull-eyed, in pain, horribly humble. We looked at each other. He glanced away, up and down the short hallway, and then back into my eyes.

  "Sleep," he said. "Morning...be hard."

  He hobbled off as quickly as he could, dragging one crippled leg.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  All the dreams of Raym I'd rejected for two years came back to me that night, crowding the hours until dawn, and I woke with tears on my face. But I was reasonably well rested. I bathed and dressed quickly in my favorite of the new outfits, another tunic suit, pale lemon-colored linen with a snug, short top and wide-legged trousers. No jewelry. I braided my hair tightly and pulled the braids back into a fountain that hung nearly to my waist. I wanted to look as young and as innocent as possible, as much in contrast to Orath as I could. I wanted her to be jealous; I wanted her to be angry. I was dressed to do battle.

  The servant girl, shy and sorry, came to fetch me just before sunrise, and I surprised both her and myself by kissing her poor hurt face. "If I leave here today," I said, on impulse, "come with me." I couldn't make her well, but maybe I could help to give her a bearable life. Anything would be better than the one she had now.

  Orath met me outside Maltuk's formal reception room, dressed all in black, wearing her hair loose and long down her back. She looked like what children think witches look like. Jareth's fine pendant hung around her neck, its diamond knot winking and flashing in the low light. Her eyes, too, glinted when she saw me.

  "Ah, Vivia. How sweet you look." A shadow moved behind her. Raym. "Before we go in, I want to tell you how sorry I am for your father's death. I ought to have mentioned it yesterday, but somehow... At any rate, I've been informed that he was killed by one of Maltuk's captains, which makes me partly responsible, I fear. I intended to take appropriate action, but it seems the captain himself has disappeared. So strange. We have, of course, reclaimed his ship."

  She was telling me that the rest of Father's wares and ornaments, at least those he and Jareth had carried with them, were in her possession--except for the ones Mani had taken, which were now in my trunk in the room she'd assigned to me, and Father's purse, also in that room. I cursed silently but nodded, falsely acknowledging her false sympathy. Now she'd have no reason to keep me functioning independently after she'd beaten me with her guile.

  Well, if I didn't beat her with my guile, I'd have no need for any of it. If I did I could reclaim it all.

  No, not if, I vowed. When I do.

  "Another thing, Vivia," she said. "We'll be in my lord Maltuk's presence soon, and so I must ask you to resume your formality with me. For the time being, of course."

  "Yes, my lady," I murmured. "Of course." We gave each other artificial smiles, like two opposing mirrors. She knew I was as ready for her as I'd ever be. I knew that she knew; she knew that I knew, and so forth. Sweeping in front of me, she opened the door into the great chamber and strode in, leaving me to follow.

  The room was huge, relatively bare of furnishings, and cold, despite fires blazing in two fireplaces and a large stove. This was probably because there were no windows, for it was summer and the weather was seasonable. The ceiling was so high as to seem hazy, as indeed it was; one of the fireplaces seemed to have a faulty draft. Around three sides were balconies, no doubt to accommodate throngs of loyal subjects brought in to observe Maltuk on ceremonial occasions. They were empty now.

  At one end was a throne, which I could scarcely believe. Our own High King, Horok, didn't have such a thing and would have laughed at the concept. But there it was, with steps leading up to it, a large, uncomfortable looking chair padded with threadbare purple cushions and decorated with gold leaf that even I, many yards away when I entered the room
, could see was worn through in places to the black alloy beneath. In the chair was Maltuk.

  As I approached, hurrying after Orath, I examined him curiously. The Red Prince appeared to be a man in his late twenties or early thirties, big without excess flesh, of suitably ruddy complexion. His curly hair and short beard were red as burnished copper. His eyes were bright blue. Appeared to be, I say, because the shimmer that accompanied his seeming youth and vitality was easily visible. Orath was not devoting much energy to it, although her own manifestation was still flawless.

  As I approached, he squinted to see me. She hadn't been able to give him the visual acuity of a young man, it seemed.

  She had concentrated, I realized then, on other matters. When I was close enough for him to see me easily, Maltuk's lips parted slightly and he glanced once at Orath and then back at me. She told him my name, not for the first time I thought. Since the curtsy is a gesture not best performed in trousers, I made my obeisance with a slightly bent knee, sort of a half-hearted genuflection.

  If I had begun instead to take off my clothes, the nature of his interest could not have been more apparent. He leaned forward, eyes gleaming, the beginning of a stupid smile on his face. And even if he'd tried to conceal his lust, it would have been more than obvious to my witch sense. When Orath had taken what she wanted from me, I was obviously to be her gift to him, as Riga once had been.

  I turned to her and saw that the fight had come.

  She had abandoned all of yesterday's pretense. This was to be a triumph for her, another victory to cap even that of Tedor's youth stolen and Maltuk's restored. It wasn't enough for her to defeat me; she had to do it in front of Maltuk.

  Of course, since her strength was greatly enhanced by what she was stealing from Raym, her victory now, like those others, would be a cheat. But Maltuk wouldn't know that. There was something desperate about all this, something desperate and also very odd.

  However, I had no time to consider what it might mean. Orath gave me a look of wild ferocity and suddenly drove the force of her guile, combined with Raym's, straight at me. The attack was meant to unbalance me as she had unbalanced Raym. With that accomplished, she would add the strength of my own guile to theirs and deprive me of my reason, at which point I'd be helpless to counter her.

  Instead I met her head-on, guile against guile, not giving an inch. Then I began to advance, slowly but inexorably, pushing her back and back. I heard Raym's groan as she drew yet more from him in her effort to thwart my progress. But I heard it as if at a great distance, for my head rang with my own effort.

  If I could gain momentum, I would turn both her guile and Raym's against her, and she would stumble and fall. I intended, then, to kill her, as I'd promised Mani. Whether I would kill Maltuk too I hadn't decided, although I'd promised that as well. This stumbling and falling, of course, like my advance and her retreat, would be only figurative. What Maltuk and even Raym could see was only the two of us, a yard or so apart, staring into each other's eyes.

  But I didn't gain momentum and she didn't stumble. My guilish advance upon her faltered, slowed and stopped. And Orath laughed.

  I heard that as from a distance, and heard her say, Now, you little fool, I'll drain you as I drained this other fool behind me, and have it all. Yours, his, and mine. Then I'll kill you both.

  I was stunned. In spite of the ringing in my head, the pain, the effort, and, yes, the fear, I understood and could hardly believe what my sense told me she was saying. She thought Raym's guile was hers. She thought she'd taken it into herself and that even if Raym died she would wield it. She'd left Raym alive only for her amusement, crippled him only to entertain herself with his abasement.

  She didn't realize that when he was dead she would lose that strength. She didn't realize that if she took my guile she would lose it again if she killed me.

  Orath had been a great witch for many years, and she was an intelligent woman. What she believed about her control of Raym was something contrary to reason, and it came to me then that she was insane.

  The knowledge shook me, and I staggered mentally. Catching myself, I made a huge effort and pulled upright again, renewing my weakening defense against her. But it was weakening indeed, that defense. Now she was on the advance.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash. Raym pulled a little knife from the folds of his humble rags, and he turned the blade toward his throat. He, too, had heard Orath's thought. He, too, knew what it meant. If he were dead, her strength would be diminished by half, and I would win.

  I threw myself at him and knocked the knife from his hand. I gave it a kick and it zizzed across the smooth stone floor, disappearing under the steps to Maltuk's throne. "No! Let her win! I won't have it that way!"

  I turned my attention from him and pushed on against Orath. But I fell further and further back.

  She laughed again, feeling her victory already.

  But even as I began to collapse, something happened. My strength didn't increase, but hers suddenly began to fade. Her advance slowed, stopped, staggered backward. I felt another guilish power coming from--where?

  I heard a sound from my left, near where we'd entered the throne room.

  Crowding through the door toward Orath and me were four women. Kenath led, followed by Klaar, Cilla, and Merzik, the three healers.

  Their guile was focused on Orath. But they weren't alone. A few steps behind came Afron, and behind her the little servant girl. I felt their power, combined. When it joined mine, I turned back to Orath and renewed my attack.

  The Lady began to tremble. She raised her hands as if to ward off a physical attack.

  I knew she was finished. The others, my sisters, were with me as I was with them. We threw our guile at her. The courageous hopes and small guileless strengths of the princess and the poor disfigured child whom Orath had abused for so long gave us added strength. Before our combined power, the great witch fell.

  As she struggled to rise, another force joined us. Raym took back his guile and turned it too against her.

  The glamour dropped from her like a cloak. The woman who had stood there a moment before was tall, straight, powerful, beautiful in her way. The one who lay gasping on the floor was frail and twisted, with wisps of white hair clinging to her scrawny neck and folds of skin hanging from her arms. The black gown collapsed like a puddle of silk around and upon her, showing every knob and ridge of bone. Only her eyes, the eyes of an ancient hawk, blazed out from the ruin.

  "My prince! My prince!" she cried, her angry old voice drained of illusion. "They've done for me! Avenge me!"

  But the man on the throne was hardly in better shape than Orath, for her magic had left him, too. Maltuk's true age showed now. Although he was at least thirty years younger than she, still in his sixties, his illness was obvious to all of us. He was bloated in face and body, his skin grayish, his clothes hanging loose around his legs and arms. Worse, the influence that had kept him from feeling how sick he was had vanished like the illusion. He stood, tottered, and fell back onto the gold-painted chair.

  "What--what's happened?" He looked around in a befuddled way. Afron was staring at him in horror. "Daughter? What is it? Why--where is my witch?"

  Klaar was the first to collect her wits, and she ran up the steps. "You're not well, my lord. Compose yourself. Be calm."

  He tried to rise again.

  She gave him a gentle push back onto his throne. "Don't try to--"

  "Where is my witch?"

  "Orath can't help you," Klaar said. "She's...ill herself."

  Maltuk glared at her for a moment before turning his gaze around the room, peering through the fog of his dimmed eyes, seeking someone to do his will. There was no one. At last, he seemed to notice the pitiful figure who lay on the floor at my feet.

  Orath was still struggling to rise, but she was so weak after the tremendous effort of our battle that I was sure she wouldn't be able. Nevertheless I kept part of my attention on her. If she were to gain b
ack a bit of her guile I would beat her down again.

  But the Red Prince had guessed the truth. "Orath," he breathed, finally forced to believe what he saw. He turned to Klaar. "It was all witchery? My youth? Her beauty? All false?"

  Klaar nodded. "All witchery. Nothing real."

  "By God," he said, and his voice grew a little stronger, "here's something real, then." He stood up again, swayed, but caught himself. When he took something in his hand, somehow I thought it was a staff. With it steadying him, he descended the three steps from his ancestors' throne to the stone floor.

  "Orath," he said, standing over the ancient witch. "I owe you this."

  I saw then that what he held was no staff but a ceremonial sword, jeweled at the hilt, probably not too sharp but heavy and pointed. He raised it over her.

  She had stopped trying to rise and was looking up at him.

  I took a step forward but a hand held me back.

  "No. It must play itself out." Raym, sounding himself.

  Afron had not moved.

  With both hands, Maltuk drove the sword down through Orath's chest.

  She closed her eyes and died. Blood flowed from the wound, dark and turbid.

  Everyone stepped back automatically, except for Maltuk. He dropped the sword and it clanged down heavily, although the point was still embedded in her body. He fell beside her, first to his knees and then full length, and put his arms around her. He was weeping.

  I came near to weeping myself, but I thought of Mani and Riga and Kai and the impulse left me.

  Kenath touched my arm. "The jewel," she whispered. "Your gold chain with the diamonds and rubies. Let me get it for you." She had of course examined my things while I was gone from the inn.

  "No," I said. "Leave it. Let them bury her in it."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  We took a long time getting back to the southern port city where my journey in Maal had begun, traveling by short, easy stages to allow Raym to recover from his ordeal. We went by coach and on horseback, with Orath's erstwhile servant girl, Joli, and Raym in the coach and the rest of us, Kenath and I and Prince Tedor, riding ahead. At each inn we stopped for a day or two, and were treated with great hospitality and deference. Word of who we were and what had been accomplished at Maltuk's court went before us, and the people of Maal were grateful.