"Let us take the creature to my cottage," the woman said.
Certina felt the man halt abruptly.
"And what will you do?"
"I will examine her more closely."
"But you have a cat."
"I will safeguard the bird from Ruse."
"This is a free creature," the man said. "There is no evidence it serves anyone. It has rights to enter our country as do the deer and the geese and the rabbit."
"It cannot be counted as a free creature. It is not like other birds, or like the deer or rabbits that come through our lands. Have you not been listening to me?"
"Yes, but I see no reason to keep this bird with you."
"You may be a great hunter, Aremon, but you are none too wise in these matters!"
"Yes, I am a great hunter, Seleesa, and as hunter I claim this bird as my prize, the spoils of my hunt to do with what I wish. You have no claim upon it."
"Don't be foolish, you tenderhearted oaf! This bird may threaten us, our hopes, our very survival. I promise not to harm it! I only want to—"
"To what? Pick at it with a sharp stick? Pluck its feathers for one of your potions? There, there, little one. Do not struggle so! No harm will come to you. I promise!"
His words did little to calm Certina as she continued to pick at her coverings.
"If you were anyone else, I'd use one of my potions on you! Perhaps then you wouldn't be so dense-headed! Uh-oh. Too bad for you. Here comes Prince Nightar."
Certina heard the sound of approaching horses and soon another voice.
"Hail, Prince," said the man and woman.
"Hail, Aremon, Seleesa. A black bird is reported felled this way."
"Yes, Prince," said the man who held Certina. "A black eagle of Shatuum, most likely. It was my arrow that brought it down after crossing our border."
"Shatuum? Its servants do not travel without purpose. Where is it?"
"It fell yonder, over that hill."
"I will look upon it. What do you have there?"
"A capture from my hunt, sire. A little owl."
"Oh?"
"Lord," spoke Seleesa, "it was this that the black eagle was after."
"Then it is no ordinary bird. And if it crossed our border seeking safety, it must have been desperate indeed. And foolish. A Familiar, most likely."
"That is what I think. And I wish to examine the little owl in my cottage."
"I would hope you would, if for no other reason than to determine its innocence or guilt."
"What is this, my lord? This is but a little owl," said Aremon. "It is the prize of my own hunt. I take it to my dwelling as my rightful capture. I will not have it harmed."
"Your prize, eh? Are not all the creatures of these lands, those that dwell here and those that pass through, subject to my rule? Including those who walk on two legs?"
"Of course, Prince. Forgive me." Certina felt the man bow.
"And are not the rights of prize, whether of hunt or of battle, first claimed by my throne before all other claims?"
"Why, yes, my lord. Only—"
"Then I will have it examined by Seleesa as is her duty."
"Ha!" cried Seleesa. "I told you!"
"But sire, she has a cat!"
"A cat?"
"Yes, Prince. A long, mean cat."
"Yes, I do recall a certain cat."
"Sire," Seleesa said with an air of exasperation. "I will put the cat out."
"My dwelling is nearer, my lord."
"Oh? Yes, I suppose it is. It is settled. Take the creature to your dwelling, Aremon. Seleesa will accompany you. Await me there. I will view the black eagle and then attend with you while she looks over your bird."
"Certainly, my lord!" Aremon said with satisfaction.
"Yes, lord," said Seleesa sullenly.
Certina heard the horses trot away as she felt the man begin walking quickly.
"You are sometimes a little too eager, Seleesa."
"You are sometimes a little too stubborn, Aremon."
"Perhaps if you would take my ring, as I have asked you these many times, you would come to value my stubbornness."
"That is one thing that I am decidedly not too eager about!"
"Too bad. I would make you a good husband."
"I do not long to lose my powers by joining with any man."
"Are your powers so great that their loss would hurt you so?"
"I pray that you do not declare your love for me again," Certina heard Seleesa say in a whispered tone of distress. "Do not torment me so, I beg. For I dare not let such utterances pass my lips. Of my kind, only three remain in this land, as you well know. It is not that my powers are so great, but that only two others and I have them. It is true I have not been called upon, and perhaps I never shall be. But Nightar is needed here, and Traveshia, though she is still powerful, is old and frail of body. If something should happen to them before the Time of Leaving, what would become of us?"
There was silence for many moments until Aremon spoke again.
"Forgive my selfishness, Seleesa," he said. "I sometimes think the time will never come, and I often look to happiness here, if such a thing can be. I hope you will not hold that against me, at least. I will speak no more of it. Here, let us go into my dwelling, see to this little one, and await the Prince."
• • •
But it was to Duinnor, and not Shatuum, that the surviving black eagle flew. Arriving late in the day, it circled the city, hesitating. The creature was tempted to fly instead to the southwest, to the place of its hatching, the place of its true master. As in the early days of its flight from Shatuum, it shared all it saw with its master, and was generously rewarded with special meats, still living. But it had been commanded to render its services to another, and to share those things it witnessed first with that other person. Only then would it be released to return to its true master. Once before, it disobeyed these commands, and was punished with painful treatment. That was enough. It wheeled over and descended to the high slender tower of the King's Palace. Why here, of all places, must it meet the one appointed? Here, in the presence of the enemy, and of that accursed Avatar, to share its vision with an Elifaen. Cruel this was, the creature felt, to give itself over to one of those wingless two-legs. But to please its master, it would do so.
It flapped heavily and landed on the highest ledge and peered into the open window. Another of its kind sat nearby, careless of the new arrival, awaiting its own orders. The newcomer squawked viciously, making the other bird hop farther aside, then it peered deeper into the large room. The Avatar stood there, silent and unmoving, but no one else could be seen. The newly arrived black eagle would have to wait. First would come the King, eventually, or the King's little helper. Then the other one would be summoned. The Elifaen who served the King. And, presumably, who served its master, too. Only afterwards, and only if the Elifaen was inclined, could it fly away and report to Shatuum. The eagle had no words that humans might comprehend, and no thoughts that we might understand. But it felt its master's attention, and his pull. Not strong enough to draw it away, but strong enough so that it was distracted, restless, anxious to be done with this task and return to him.
• • •
Indeed, Secundur waited. Although far from Duinnor, he was aware that one of his minions had some news. He was not as patient as he once was, and felt that, perhaps soon, he would break his pact with Lord Banis. It was during moments such as these when Secundur's form was most restless, upsetting his servants and the legions within his realm with his dark aura. He sensed that news was coming, but until his black eagle related it to Lord Banis and then flew away to come to Shatuum, Secundur would not know what the black eagle saw. Until the black eagle's arrival, he could not guess the import, if any, of the black eagle's tidings, for the growing disturbance that Secundur felt seemed to come from every direction, from the south as well as the east. Distinguishing those subtle, and not so subtle, manifestations of his own long plot from th
e plots of those who opposed him was no longer an easy task, for his own efforts were ages in the forming, years in the planting, and even those things he himself fomented in the world sometimes had unpredictable outcomes. Secundur was, therefore, ever revising and refining, shifting his game pieces, countermanding orders for new ones, and reversing himself. Since the Queen had left Vanara, many of his plots had to be abandoned. The secret accord with Lord Banis, by which Secundur allowed the use of his eagles, had only produced mixed results, and Secundur, though patient, often considered withdrawing them from Banis. The eagles were necessary, for now, and allowing some to serve Banis could only further Shatuum's plots, regardless of how inconvenient it sometimes was. So Secundur, at last unable to bear uncertainty and inaction, sent forth more of the flying spies, some south toward Vanara, and others east to faraway Glareth. Those eagles, among all of Secundur's vile creations, seemed the least restless, happy to fly hither and yon as his spies and messengers. And only these creatures were permitted to leave Shatuum until all was prepared, until Secundur would lead his legions forth all at once.
It was useful, Secundur had learned, to have such creatures as the black eagles, ones that could bear the full bright light of day to do his bidding. They could go where it was now too painful, or impossible, for Secundur himself to venture. Too long wrapped in the cloak of shadow was he, until the cloak and the shadow and Secundur were one and the same. Darkness was his abode, his security, and his intent. Yet, with their eyes, his eagles could see for him into those places where he could no longer bear to look, and they could touch for him those things he no longer had the ability to grasp. But they had to be handled carefully, these creatures who flew in the light of day. He could enslave them, but he could not envelop them with his nature completely, or else they would be useless to him. He still needed such servants to build his legions, to spawn his followers, to gather and corral those witches and demons that still survived, and to convert those who were brought to Shatuum. The eagles, however, could come and go, watch and report, and even be his bargaining pieces.
The black eagles that roosted in Duinnor were just that, tools loaned to seal a treaty. And Secundur made sure they were useful to Duinnor, indispensable. That was how he kept Duinnor from harassing his borders, from attempting to delve his secrets as did Serith Ellyn and her Gray Guard. Duinnor, not Vanara, was now Secundur's worry. The black eagles he gave over to Duinnor were just part of his bargain. The King, of course, would not use them directly; he was immune to his whisperings. It was a mystery, perhaps having to do with the Golden Mantle that the King wore, and Secundur had long given up the effort to subvert the Unknown Kings. But the Elifaen lord who served the present King was different, was like all the rest of the Elifaen. It was this Lord Banis who arranged the trade of eagles for Shatuum's security, and Lord Banis made good use of Secundur's feathered minions to assure his own rise to power. And now Banis was second only to the King. But could Duinnor be trusted? Certainly not the Elifaen lord; none of that blood could ever be trusted, not even those he had turned into his slaves, not even the highest general of Shatuum. And the eagles? Would they continue to come to Shatuum, reporting to him what they shared with the Elifaen lord? Giving them the choice was dangerous, but necessary. His power over them was greater than the Elifaen lord in Duinnor. Just enough freedom was required, and no more. But he could not give the eagles free reign, either, or else they, like all others, would turn away. It was in their nature, in the nature of all creatures to resist Secundur.
Esildre had taught him that.
Esildre, who was given over to Secundur by her own father in trade for his eagles. Was it a trick? Secundur knew that fathers only reluctantly gave away their daughters. It must have been a trick. But what did the Elifaen lord hope to achieve? Did it matter? The Unknown King, in his paranoia, could no longer do without the eagles, controlled by his Elifaen lord. And the Elifaen lord's place of power was thus assured. Was that not enough?
Yes, the Elifaen who served the King, Lord Banis, gave his own daughter to Secundur, and he convinced her to come as a willing hostage, ignorant of the extent of her father's bargain. Her charms were considerable, coming closest to Secundur's heart, she, who nearly ruined him with her beauty and her pleasures. Too many secrets he shared, mingling with her in her bed. Yet, often they argued for days and days at a stretch. Gently he coaxed her, and tenderly he courted her, using skills he had long practiced on others. He nearly succeeded, for she was not like Islindia, with whom he had once been obsessed. Esildre was not pure of heart nor so attached to the good earth as Islindia. Over a thousand years had passed, and more, since his failed attempt to seduce the forest queen. That should have been a lesson to Secundur. But he spited her and her lands and all her people for her rejection of him. Fie upon Islindia! Later, when Secundur had received Shatuum to be his own land, he had no thought to form any new female liaisons.
But then came Banis with his proposal. And Esildre was easy, almost compliant. She was not so good, nor so imbued with earth's goodness. And she had not given her troth to another as Islindia had done, so had no reason to resist. So Secundur agreed to the Elifaen lord's scheme, and, eventually Esildre came to Shatuum.
For centuries, the Elifaen lord's daughter was Secundur's courtesan, and his paramour. More and more time did Secundur spend with her, and closer they became entwined. Yet she remained a mystery to him, a challenge. She would not give herself over to him completely, always held back something essential, something inscrutable to Secundur. Yes, a challenge, an indulgent challenge. And much of his dark business was put aside for the pleasure of her, delaying his plans. In the dimmest light possible, she vexed him with the temptation of her body, and thus held him back from his final transformation.
For Esildre nearly became his queen. She delved so close to his workings that he gave himself over to her. But then she saw. What was it that made her see? She saw, and she recoiled from him. He could have enslaved her. Why didn't he? He chafed whenever his thoughts turned to her, whenever he remembered her, dimly, now, as through a great distance of time, a speck of painful light, like a single star, alone in the darkness. Yes, he remembered stars, he remembered their stinging pricks of light. He remembered her. Yes, he let her go, though he smote her with a vindictive curse.
She was a mistake he would never repeat. No one was worthy of him. When she left him, she left with his mark upon her, his curse. But he did not realize until after she had gone that, when he had released her, when he shot his curse into her, some last bit of his most ancient being went from him. But that kind of power no longer mattered to him. It was not the sort of power that was really useful, not what he called power at all. Futile creatures of light! Almost immediately upon her departure, Secundur shed the last remnant of fleshly nature. Fie upon light! He was become Darkness. Shadow was now his body.
Now, the memory of her gave him pain and filled him with anger. He should have destroyed her. He should have crushed her body and chewed out her soul. Why didn't he? After an age of contemplation, he realized that the one thing she longed for the most, the thing that he had turned against her, to spite her and to doom her, was that which she conjured from the remains of his own heart. He knew the words well, and had used them countless times in the ears of others. Desire. Affection. Love. And, after she left him, he felt a loss as he had never known. He filled the void with his ancient anger and with resolve. Never would he make that mistake again, and, in her absence, he now had no reason to resist his darkest ambitions. Perhaps he owed her that much, for he had now gathered into his realm all that he needed.
No, not quite all.
Patience. Let Throgallus, his general, his protégé, do his work. He, at least, could never betray him. Throgallus came to Shatuum of his own will, too, having failed the King at Tulith Attis, having failed to bring away the Bloodcoins, having betrayed and abandoned his own family, his own people, and having nowhere else to turn. First, Esildre came. Then, just when she left him,
came this traitorous general, pliable and softened by his own gnawing soul, after centuries of hiding, of being on the run from discovery. Secundur knew he would come. But Throgallus was strong, and he resisted the enchantments laid upon the armor he wore, spells that infected his heart and urged him to seek refuge in Shatuum. When Throgallus came at last, he was gladly received, for Secundur had prepared the way for him. Secundur gave the general a new purpose, a new calling, and even a new name. And now, like the black eagles, Throgallus belonged to Secundur. And now, too, Secundur was wiser, darker, and incapable of the weakness that he showed Esildre.
No, he never would make those mistakes again. Morgasir, his old tutor, long vanquished in the Time Before Time, would be proud, for the student had grown mightier than his master. She had done that for him, erased the last vestige of his origins, the last vulnerabilities of his heart. Secundur was no longer Faere, no longer Elifaen. The feelings they had were weakness, to be used and exploited, as he always had done. And now he was stronger, having gained a more subtle understanding of his own power. Shadow, never interrupted, was now his entire being.
Esildre was gone. But patience remained. Angry, smoldering patience. She had given him that, though he had no gratitude for it. For, though parted from him, the memory of her chafed him, though he no longer understood why or how. Doubt and paranoia she planted in him. But, in return, he cursed her with a curse that would bring death and madness to any who succumbed to her eyes. And he gave to her eyes an urging that could not be resisted. It was a fair trade.
And her father? Duinnor? When she left, Secundur was filled with fury and a powerful temptation to unleash his wrath upon that realm, forsaking all other plans. But he needed Duinnor. Only through Duinnor could he achieve his ultimate goal. And Throgallus was not yet ready. So Secundur allowed the pact to stand, and the eagles continued to fly from the King's tower. The pact benefited Secundur's land of Shatuum more than Duinnor.
The Nature of a Curse (Volume 2 of the Year of the Red Door) Page 34