The Immortal Realm (8 page)

“Of whom do you speak?” asked the earl marshal.

“His name is Hollin. He is a Healer, a wise and skillful apothecary.”

“I have not heard of this man,” said Cornelius. “Whence comes he?”

Aldritch's voice was sharp as he replied. “I will vouch for him, Earl Marshal,” he said. “And if the lords and ladies of the House of Aurealis traveled more often in the north, then perhaps his name would not be unknown to them.”

“And if Weir showed a warmer welcome to wayfarers on the northern roads, then perhaps it would not
be perceived by so many as a nest of darksome secrets,” said another lord.

“Hush, Fillian,” said the King. “Weir is our ally.” He turned to Aldritch. “Speak on, my lord. What of this man?”

“I have bidden him and those acolytes that follow him to come here with all dispatch,” Aldritch replied. “They left Weir upon a swift ship and if the wind is fair, they should be with us by dawn of tomorrow's tomorrow.” He gave a formal bow. “It is for you, Lord Oberon, to judge his merits. If you find him wanting, then dispatch him whence he came.” He put a hand to his chest. “But upon mine honor I do believe he may find a firm footing in the mire upon which we stand.”

“So be it,” said the King.

“You are sure that this man has the craft to battle the plague?” asked the earl marshal.

“Nothing is certain till it be tested,” said Aldritch. “But it may prove so, my lord earl. The knowledge of Hollin is deep and subtle.”

“Then may the spirits of the wind and of the sea speed his arrival, my lord,” said Oberon. “But come; you must be weary after your long journey. There is food and drink in the Star Chamber.”

The King led Lord Aldritch away out of Tania's sight. She stood, still leaning over the banister, the rail digging into her stomach.

The last time she had heard that sepulchral voice had been in Caer Liel in Weir. Lord Aldritch had been
speaking to his son and agreeing not to come to the King's aid in his fight against the Sorcerer King of Lyonesse. Queen Titania had insisted that Aldritch was not a traitor—but all the same Tania still feared and distrusted him.

But he had spoken of a Healer. Could there really be someone in Faerie who would be able to prevail against the illness?

She heard footsteps along the corridor.

It was Rathina. “You look as pale as aspen leaves, Tania,” Rathina said, scrutinizing her face. “What's the matter? Why are you not abed? Has sleep deserted you as it has me?” A flicker of fear crossed her face. “Or are you unwell?”

Tania shook her head. “I'm not ill,” she said. “Lord Aldritch has just arrived.” She shuddered. “I'm sorry, but he gives me the creeps.”

A bleak smile curled Rathina's lips. “'Tis a good phrase,” she said softly. “Aye, there is something about the lord of Weir that makes the skin crawl, I cannot deny. But you should not fear him. Were our father in any doubt, Weir would have been excluded from the Conclave.”

“I heard him say something about a Healer—a man who might be able to deal with the illness. He's already on his way.”

“Glad tidings, indeed, if it proves so,” said Rathina. “But I shall not dance on a needle's point till the deed is done.”

Tania looked into her sister's face. “Rathina…I
know this sounds weak,” she murmured. “But I need a hug…. I need it really badly right now.”

Wordlessly Rathina moved close to Tania and folded her in her arms. It was a comfort for Tania to close her eyes and rest her head on Rathina's shoulder, to feel her sister's long, thick dark hair against her face, to smell her, and to relax into her embrace.

“These are hard times for all,” Rathina murmured. “The disease strikes us down like a quarter-ball at pitch-pin, and none may feel safe.”

Tania lifted her head. “Like a what at
what
?”

“A quarter-ball at pitch-pin. 'Tis a game, Tania. The purpose is to roll a wooden ball and strike down the pins. We played it often as children.”

Tania nodded. “Bowling. I get it.” She moved out of Rathina's arms. “It does feel a bit like that—except that I'm the one who rolled the ball. I set all this in motion and now I can't stop it.”

Rathina raised an eyebrow. “You would speak to me of guilt?” she said. “Sister, I could trade you guilt for guilt ten times over and leave you groaning under the burden of my misdeeds.”

Tania didn't have an answer to that. She pulled back the sleeve of her gown. There were four small crescent-moon marks on her forearm, dark red with dried blood. The wounds of fingernails. “Cordelia did that,” she said. “She was so frightened, Rathina.”

“As are we all, sweet sister, as are we all.” Rathina linked her arm with Tania's and drew her along the high gallery. “But we shall banish melancholy with
naughty deeds.” She gave a sly grin. “Would you visit in secret the Chamber of the Conclave of Earls?”

“Are we allowed?”

“Nay—that is the whole point. 'Tis a place most solemn and private, and none but the earls may enter. Come.” Rathina began to run, towing Tania along with her.

They passed many closed doors. Tania wondered about the folk who filled those silent rooms. The palace was full of people, but were any of them able to sleep, or were they all lying wide-eyed in the rain-filled night, dreading the coming of the plague?

She was sure at least that Hopie and Sancha and the Queen would not have taken to their beds. The most they would have allowed themselves was a brief nap to sharpen their wits. Tania wished she could be with them—wished she had some knowledge that would make a difference.

But she didn't. Oberon had hoped she would be able to help, but so far that hope had proved in vain. For all the use she was being she may as well have remained in London with her mum and dad.

 

Tania soon lost track of where she was as her sister pulled her along the maze of corridors, but at last they came to a pair of tall white doors of carved crystal.

Rathina lifted a candelabrum from its wall sconce and pushed at the doors. They glided open into a large dark space. Tania followed her sister through, sensing immediately that this was a place where she should
tread lightly and speak in whispers. The sound of pattering rain echoed off the walls.

Rathina closed the doors behind them and held up the candelabrum.

The Chamber of the Earls Conclave was a lofty, circular room made entirely of glass. Tall pointed windows swept to a high vaulted ceiling, their dark faces stippled and streaming with the rain. The thin spires that framed the windows were a milky color, hardly seeming substantial enough to hold off the pelting rain.

But most extraordinary and unnerving of all was the floor beneath Tania's feet. It was of a glass so clear that Tania felt as if she was standing on nothing.

“Oh!” she gasped, and clutched at Rathina, suddenly realizing that she was looking through fathoms of rain-lashed air to the dimly visible sea far below. The chamber overhung the cliff, and there was nothing but the thin veil of glass under her feet to prevent Tania from plunging to her death.

Smiling at her unease, Rathina took Tania's arm and walked her in a slow circle around the chamber. Set in crystal niches around the walls were simple, high-backed chairs made of smooth white stone.

“These are the Thirteen Sieges of Faerie,” Rathina explained. “Ten are reserved for the lords and ladies of the ten caers, and two for our father and mother.”

“You said thirteen,” Tania said. “Who sits on the last one?”

“No one,” Rathina replied. “It is always empty: It is
called the Siege of the Lost Caer, but I have no notion why it is so named, for there is no such castle in all of Faerie.”

Tania noticed that there was a symbol carved in the crystal above each seat. She recognized the radiating sun of the King and the full moon of the Queen, but there were many others: a bird, a coiling dragon, a tree, a unicorn—a different symbol for every chair save one. The Siege of the Lost Caer.

For some reason Tania felt a shiver run down her spine as she stood in front of the thirteenth chair.

“As soon as Lord Herne of Minnith Bannwg and Lady Mornamere of Llyr arrive, the Conclave will commence,” Rathina said. “Earl Valentyne will not be able to attend; Eden will take his place and represent Mynwy Clun, if she can be persuaded to leave his side. Lord and Lady Gaidheal were killed by the Sorcerer King, so their son Fleance, a lad of but ten summers, will represent their Earldom. And of course there is no lord nor lady of Caer Regnar Naal, nor has there been from time immemorial, so our uncle the earl marshal shall sit in the Siege of Sinadon.”

“And where will Lord Aldritch sit?” Tania asked.

“Under the charge of the wild unicorn of Caer Liel,” said Rathina. “Dinsel is represented by the leaping salmon, Minnith Bannwg by the stag—each of the Earldoms of Faerie has its own charge. For Gaidheal the oak tree, for Talebolion the sea horse, and for Sinadon the two crossed keys.” Rathina looked at Tania. “'Tis shame indeed that we come here on a
stormy night. When the sky is clear, the stars do shine so very bright!”

“Sorry? What were you saying?” Tania had been staring at the Siege of Weir, seeing in her mind the thin, dour face of the sinister old lord.

“It matters not,” said Rathina. “Come, let us to bed now, sweet sister. Sleep offers peace and ease, and mayhap the new morn will bring clearer skies to our wounded Realm.”

Tania linked arms with her and walked out into the corridor. She was glad to leave the Chamber of the Conclave of Earls. It was beautiful with its soaring walls of glass and crystal, but it was also a strange and uncanny place to be on a rain-swept night.

“Tania. Wake up now.”

Tania opened her eyes to darkness. A heavy, blue-gray darkness, as if the world had turned overnight into burnished lead.

“Cordelia?”

“Yes, sweetheart. You must get up now. I have something to show you.”

Tania climbed out of bed and followed her sister along a curved corridor.

“Where are we going?”

“You will see.”

Cordelia led her to a pair of tall crystal doors. The doors opened without being touched, and Cordelia and Tania stepped into the Chamber of the Conclave of Earls. Beyond the slender windows the sky was full of towering mountains of cloud black as sloes, shining dully. Under their feet the sea moved like molten rock.

“I'm not too keen on this place,” Tania said. “Do we have to be in here?”

“Yes. You must see!”

“Okay. But quickly, though.”

Cordelia ran across the glass floor to the Siege of the Lost Caer. She turned and sat, smiling darkly.

Suddenly Tania was aware of the rippling sound of a harp and of a deep, rich woman's voice singing a sad, beautiful lament.

“What is that song?” Tania asked.

“It is the Song of the Lost Caer,” said Cordelia. “It is the Song of Our Redemption. If you would cure
me—if you would cure us all—seek the Lost Caer, sweet sister. Seek the Lost Caer….”

The floor gave way under Tania's feet and with a shriek she fell, to be swallowed by the ocean.

Except that she didn't land in the sea at all. She was enveloped by night air thick as wine, dark as caverns under countless fathoms of seawater. And she was not swimming; she was flying on gossamer wings, and below her she could faintly make out the shapes of dark and sinister buildings that thrust towers and spires into the gloomy air.

If you would cure us all—seek the Lost Caer, sweet sister. Seek the Lost Caer….

 

Tania awoke with Rathina's voice ringing in her ears. “Breakfast, Tania! Although if it can be called so when the sun is at the zenith, I do not know.”

Tania sat up as Rathina lowered herself onto the bed, carrying a tray laden with bread and butter, cheese and fruit, and cups of yellow Faerie cordial.

Tania knuckled her eyes. “I must have slept like a log.” She yawned.

“Indeed,” said Rathina. “Like a log being sawn into firewood. You snored like a sow!”

“I do not snore!” Tania protested.

They had come back late in the night, tumbling together into Tania's bed and falling quickly asleep.

Tania looked sharply at her sister. “Has the meeting of the earls begun?”

Rathina nodded. “A while ago,” she said. “Lord
Herne arrived before dawn, and Lady Mornamere rode in as the sun was rising.”

Tania frowned. “You shouldn't have let me sleep in,” she said. “I wanted to be there.”

“They would not have allowed you into the chamber,” Rathina said, buttering a slice of bread and handing it to Tania. “None but the earls or their representatives may enter—most especially not when a Conclave is in session.”

“They've been at it all morning, then?” Tania asked. “The Healer Aldritch mentioned isn't supposed to arrive till tomorrow. What can they be talking about that takes so long?”

“There is much to debate over how the plague came to Faerie,” Rathina said, curling her legs up under her and taking a sip of cordial. “And how to prevent such a thing from ever happening again.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake, we know what happened; my parents brought it here. But they've been punished already. What else is there to do about that? It's done; they've gone. End of story.”

Rathina looked carefully at her. “Tania, can it be that you do not realize the true purpose of this Conclave?”

Tania gave her a puzzled look. “The
true
purpose? What are you talking about?”

“The earls do not debate over the fate of Master Clive and Mistress Mary,” Rathina said gravely. “The focus of their deliberations is
you
, Tania. Everyone knows this; how is it that you do not?”

Tania stared at her. “Me?” she said. “What about me?”

Rathina reached out and cupped Tania's cheek in her hand. “They are gathered in Conclave to decide your fate, Tania: to deem whether you may remain in Faerie, or whether you should be sent back forever to the Mortal World.”

“
What?
Why would they do that?”

“You are half Mortal, Tania. They fear you may also be the harbinger of Mortal disease. I thought you would have understood that.” Rathina's expression became urgent. “I have a boon to ask, sister,” she said. “If it must be that you are doomed to exile in the Mortal World, will you take me with you?” She gripped Tania's wrist with fierce fingers. “You are my dearest friend,” she continued. “I could not bear to be here without you.”

But Tania hardly heard what she was saying. How dare the earls decide her fate without hearing her side of things, without even allowing her to be present while they talked about her?

No! No way!

Tania jumped out of bed, spilling the tray. Ignoring Rathina's protests, she ran to the closet and quickly chose a gown: gray satin, simple and unadorned.

“Tania? What is the matter?” Rathina asked.

“There is no way they're going to make any decisions about my life till they've heard what I've got to say on the subject!” Tania replied. She smoothed out the long skirts of the gown. “I can't remember how to
get to the glass room; take me there, please.”

“It is pointless,” Rathina said. “They will not allow you in.”

Tania's eyes narrowed. “Want to bet?” she said.

 

Two wardens stood at the white doors of the Chamber of the Conclave of Earls. Each held a tall crystal halberd, the axe-heads glinting in the light.

Rathina hung back as Tania approached the men in their dark red livery. As she tried to move between them, the halberds snapped diagonally across her path, bringing her to a halt.

“None may pass, my lady,” said one of the men.

“Get out of my way,” Tania said, pushing one of the halberds aside and reaching for the door handle. “I'm not in the mood!”

“My lady!” One of the guards put a restraining hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off and pushed the door open, stepping into the chamber before either of the wardens could stop her.

She paused just inside the sunlit chamber, quickly taking in the scene. The tall windows were full of blue sky. Of the thirteen crystal sieges, all were occupied save one. Eden was among those gathered, seated under the heraldic charge of the dragon of Mynwy Clun. Tania also noticed that a fresh-faced lad with close-cropped blond hair sat on the Siege of Gaidheal: the son of the lord and lady who had died at the hands of the Sorcerer King of Lyonesse, his hidden wings the merest bulge under his clothes.

As she entered, the boy, Fleance, was speaking. “…cast as I was too soon into the high politics of Faerie by the deaths of my mother and father—” He stopped dead, staring at Tania.

The other faces that turned to her were grave and solemn, and in Eden's and Titania's expressions Tania saw deep anguish. It must have taken a lot to persuade Eden to leave her husband's side.

As Tania stared around the gathering, she was aware of the clear floor under her and the sunlit drop to the wrinkled face of the ocean far below.

“Tania?” growled Oberon, a frown gathering on his brow. “You cannot enter here.”

“You're talking about me,” Tania replied, aware that the wardens were at her back now, ready to take hold of her. “I want to know exactly what you're saying.”

Lord Aldritch glared at her. “None but the earls of Faerie or their representatives may enter this chamber when the Conclave is in session,” he said. “Be gone, Princess Tania; you cannot defy the will of the nobility of Faerie.”

Tania stepped forward, moving out of reach of the wardens. “If this gabfest concerns me, then I have a right to be here,” she said. “Do you think I'm going to sit around doing nothing while you decide what's going to happen to me?”

Lord Aldritch reached out his hand toward her. “The princess's actions serve only to prove the point I made earlier, my lords and ladies: She is not a native
of Faerie; she is more than half Mortal. Her sojourn in the Mortal World has changed her utterly from the child we knew before the coming of the Great Twilight.” His eyes glinted. “We should not risk our lives for this half-thing!”

“Peace, my lord!” snapped Titania, her eyes flashing dangerously as she looked at Aldritch. “Watch your tongue; you speak of my child.”

Lord Aldritch bowed his head, but did not apologize.

A light, thoughtful voice sounded. “I have listened to much talk of the strange history of the Princess Tania,” said Fleance, “but it is hard to understand
what
she is.” He looked at Tania. “I have been told that you were Mortal-born, but that your spirit is Faerie—is that true?”

Tania was silent for a moment, acutely aware of the piercing looks of the people who surrounded her. “I don't know,” she admitted at last. “I don't know what I am.”

“A troubling admission,” commented Lord Herne, a broad-set man with a great russet beard and eyes like blue ice. He looked keenly at her. “For in your soul surely lies hidden the answer to the conundrum we debate today. Are you Faerie or are you Mortal?”

“She is both,” said Titania. “And before you condemn her for it, bear in mind, my lords and ladies, that were it not so, she could never have defeated Lyonesse.”

“'Tis true,” added Eden. “My husband knew the legend—that neither true-born Faerie nor one of Mortal kind could slay that evil thing. Had my sister not been the person she is, we would not be seated here today, but would rather be under the yoke of Lyonesse.”

“And for her help we are all most grateful,” said Lady Kernow of Dinsel, a woman with flowing gray hair and a face like carved marble. “But we face now a new peril: a disease brought into our land by Mortals.” She frowned at Tania. “Do all Mortals carry disease with them, Princess?”

“I…I don't know what you mean—”

Titania broke in. “All Mortals can fall prey to disease,” she said. “Just as any man or woman in Faerie may succumb to the evils of the Dark Arts. But they do not carry the seeds of disease within them. It invades their bodies from outside.” She turned, holding each of them for a moment in her fierce glance. “And I tell you true, my lords and ladies, if Tania had the sickness, it would have shown in her by now. We have nothing to fear from her.”

“You speak as would any mother,” said Lord Brython. “And I do not doubt your words are true, but is it not also true that Princess Tania's gift—her ability to step between the worlds—is a constant threat to us? Were she allowed to pass at will between Faerie and the Mortal World, do we not risk her bringing some further disease into our Realm?”

Tania looked at the tall bearded lord, alarmed that a man with whom she had fought side-by-side should turn on her.

“Lord Brython touches the very heart of the matter,” said Aldritch. “If we are to live without fear of Mortal disease, then we have but two choices before us: either Princess Tania must be sent forever from this Realm and locked in the Mortal World behind unbreakable enchantments, or if she is to remain here, her gift must be taken from her for all time.”

Tania stared at her father. “No!” she cried. “You can't make that kind of decision about me like…like it's
nothing
!”

“Heed me, daughter,” said Oberon. “A choice must be made. But you speak true: This is too weighty a matter for us to make the choice on your behalf.” He rose from his chair, moving slowly, as though his body ached. Moment by moment the Gildensleep was draining all the energy out of him. But there was still great majesty in him, and all eyes turned to him. Tania felt a warm hand slip into hers. It was Rathina, silent at her side.

“We have debated long, my lords and ladies,” Oberon said. “We have spoken of Tania's gift and of its mystic origin. We have spoken of our hopes and our fears. We have spoken of what enchantments or remedies may lie in Faerie to halt this Mortal plague. We have spoken of the Mystic Arts and of the spirits that live in all things. We have spoken of how our people may be saved and of how the Immortal Realm may
survive. I have weighed all your words in the balance, and here then is the doom I decree.

“For the safety of the Realm of Faerie Princess Tania can no longer be allowed to use her gift—save once more if she so chooses. She stands at a fork in the road of her life. She alone can decide which path to take: either to remain with her loving family in Faerie or to depart forever and live out her life in the world of her Mortal parents. I give her until tomorrow eve to ponder the question of her life. But in that time she must give her most solemn oath that she will not use her gift, that she will remain in Faerie. And whatsoever her choice be, I decree that all the portals between Faerie and the Mortal World will be closed forever at dawn on the following day. By that time Tania must either have departed this Realm or she must embrace Faerie for all eternity.”