The Mirror of Worlds (54 page)

The woman's features were hauntingly similar to those of Tenoctris.

* * *

The creatures crushing Ilna down wailed like a fetid wind. The weight came off her. As it did, clear white light flooded the chamber.

She staggered to her feet, squinting against the dazzling brilliance and her tears of rage. The kit wriggled deeper into the crook of her arm. She saw blurred figures approaching and tried to spread the pattern she'd knotted for defense.

Karpos closed his big hand over the fabric before Ilna could stretch it to life. "Mistress, it's all right," he said. "We're here. We'll get you out."

"What are those things?" Asion said in obvious disgust. "They're filthy as possums, by the
Lady
they are!"

"Temple'll get us out, I mean," Karpos added. "Say, is that one of the cat-things you got there?"

"They would've made me one of them," Ilna said.

She opened her eyes; when they were closed, she thought of the future she'd just avoided. The light was that of noon on a sunny day, bright but not unusually so. It was only by contrast to the pink dimness that it'd been so shocking.

Ilna put her yarn away, then tucked the loose fabric of her sleeve over the little cat-beast, not so much for warmth as to protect it from the hunters' eyes. She said, "Don't worry about the kitten. It'll be all right."

The light came from Temple's shield. He'd slung it on his left shoulder, so its brilliance blurred from the walls of the cavern instead of blazing directly on Ilna and the hunters. Even when reflected from colored sandstone it kept its white purity.

"How do you do that?" Ilna blurted. "And how did you get here?"

Temple smiled. "I think we'd best leave now," he said. "Since I don't think there's any reason to stay, is there?"

"No," said Ilna, suppressing a shudder. "Nothing's keeping us here."

Temple gestured her toward the passage back to the surface. "I'll follow the rest of you," he said. "That'll be best."

Two of the servitors lay on the stone floor, ripped by Asion's knife. The clean light shrank their bodies to twists of gray rags, and it'd driven the remainder of the creatures into the depths of the cave. Asion wouldn't have needed to strike any of them, but Ilna well understood why he'd chosen to.

She forced herself to look at the Messengers. All she could see was a shimmer in the bright air. They'd cursed her to an eternity of foul oblivion; where had their power gone now?

Ilna turned. "Thank you for rescuing me, Temple," she said. "I should've said that sooner. Thank you all."

"It was a pleasure," said Temple. He smiled. "It was something that should've been done a long while ago. But now . . .?"

"Yes," said Ilna, striding toward the passage.

"I'll lead," said Asion, uncoiling the strap of his sling.

"I'd like both of you to go ahead, if you will," said Ilna. "I have some business to discuss with Master Temple."

"Yes, mistress," said Karpos meekly. He joined his partner so they entered the passage together. Despite shadows, the shield on Temple's shoulder lighted the way as brightly as it'd been when Ilna came down this way.

"I never thought I'd get out," she whispered. "I thought I was in Hell. Forever."

The kit mewed and rubbed against Ilna's arm. Temple said, "We wouldn't have left you here, Ilna."

He was walking beside her, his right shoulder to her left. She turned and said quietly, "How were you able to come? I'd blocked the mouth of the cave."

When Ilna'd blurted similar words on first seeing her rescuers, they'd been more an accusation than a real question: how
dare
you come here when I forbade it? It embarrassed her to remember that, but her memory was very good. She had many things to recall painfully in the dark hours before dawn, so one more wasn't a great additional burden.

Temple reached under his sash and took out a skein of cords. Ilna knew that if she spread it instead of simply picking out the knots, she'd find the pattern she'd left to close the passage.

"Would this have stopped you?" Temple said.

She frowned. "No, of course not," she said.

"Nor did it stop me," Temple said in the same mild tone as before. He handed the skein, twisted and harmless, to Ilna. Their eyes met as she took it from him.

Temple looked away, up the passage to the hunters several double-paces ahead of them. Softly he said, "In a very distant . . . world, let us say, there were humans and Coerli, as there are in the Land. They'd fought and killed each other for generations."

He turned slightly and met Ilna's eyes. "Go on," she said.

The kit kicked away the sleeve that covered it. She touched it with her right hand to calm it. She wondered if it'd been weaned. Probably not.`

"A man was born," said Temple to the passage ahead. "The greatest warrior of his time, perhaps of all time. This man decided that the fighting should stop, that humans and Coerli should live together in peace."

"Did anyone listen to him?" Ilna said. She too faced straight ahead. "I shouldn't expect that they would."

"Only a few did at first," said Temple. "But he was a great warrior. He fought those who opposed him and crushed them, killed them often enough. Men and Coerli both. In the end, he had his peace, and his world had peace."

Temple looked at her. "He wasn't a saint, Ilna," he said, his words taking on a harsh burr. "He was nothing like a saint. But he brought peace to his world."

Ilna licked her lips. They and her mouth were dry as lint. "I know a man like that," she said.

"I thought you might," Temple said with a smile. "And perhaps the same thing will happen to him as happened to the warrior I'm speaking of. After he died, people—both humans and Coerli; they thought of each other as people now—put statues to him in their temples. They forgot he'd been a man, a very terrible man when he needed to be. He became a sun god, with a priesthood to tell later ages about how he'd brought the light of peace to the world."

Ilna could see the cave entrance close ahead of them, past the shoulders of the two hunters. "And then?" she asked.

"The Change sewed many times and places into a patchwork," Temple said, still smiling. "Among them was a sacred pool from the warrior's world. When the Last came there, the priests fought them. They prevented more of the creatures from arriving."

Temple grimaced. "They were priests, not warriors," he said harshly. "They didn't have weapons or the skill to use weapons, but they had courage; which in the end was enough."

He looked at her. "They prayed to their God, Ilna," he said. "Not for themselves, but for this Land to which they been brought to die."

"Let me tell you!" said Asion cheerfully. "I
am
glad to see the open sky again. I surely am!"

"We all are, my friend," Temple said. He gestured Ilna ahead of him, stepped through the narrow entrance himself, and turned.

He gestured. The ridge snapped and shuddered. Dust blew out of the crack in the rock; then the jambs of the entrance smashed together. The whole trembled again as it settled into silence.

"What about the Messengers?" Ilna said.

Temple shrugged. "They remain," he said. "They'll remain for all eternity. But though I'm sure men will find a way to reach their vault again, I don't think that will happen soon."

"Ah, Temple?" said Asion. "What do we do now?"

"I thought that for the time being you might want to stay with Ilna," Temple said with a smile. "And Ilna? I thought you might want to go home. Return to the friends you left after the Change."

Ilna looked at him without expression. The kit mewled and tried to nuzzle her breast. That wasn't going to do any good, but there'd be a milch goat or even a wet nurse in Valles or wherever Garric was.

"Yes," Ilna said. "I'd like that."

Smiling like the statue of a God, Temple raised his arms toward the sun.

* * *

"All right, here you go," Cashel said, standing beside the black slab. He lifted Tenoctris with his left palm; his right hand, clenched on the quarterstaff, gave her shoulder something to lean back on. "I can't put you up on your feet, though."

Saying that reminded him of the way he'd tossed her onto the corniche. He felt embarrassed all over again, though at the time, well . . . as she'd said herself, he didn't see there being any choice.

"I can stand, thank you," Tenoctris said. She swung lithely upright and walked to the center of the block, her wooden soles clacking.

Running his fingers over the Fulcrum made Cashel wonder what it really was. He'd thought rock when he saw it from the shore, but it had the chill of metal to the touch. It was as smooth as the blade of an axe, and even the color was wrong. He didn't have Ilna's eye for that sort of thing, but he could see the black was too pure to be natural.

Well, that was a question for some other time. Cashel thrust the staff into the sea and wriggled it, making sure it was butted firmly in the bottom. With the hickory for a brace, he took a tall step onto the slab himself. Though he wasn't going to slip, he'd still rather've been back in the cold salt water than walking on this slick surface.

"What would you like me to do, Tenoctris?" he asked.

She'd been looking over the slab carefully, the way Cashel'd check the grain of wood before shaping it into something. Whatever it was made of, it was not only polished but perfectly round.

"I won't need to scribe a figure after all," Tenoctris said. "If I could, even with this—" she waggled the sword "—which I'm rather inclined to doubt, now that I'm here."

Tenoctris drew back her arm and flung the sword into the sea. "There," she said. "I've never liked to use athames. There's an implied threat in them, though they're effective in their way. Do you understand what I mean, Cashel?"

"I think so, ma'am," he said. "But it makes no matter. There's a lot of things I
don't
understand, but it all works out anyway."

She gave him a cold smile. "Simply remain close, then," she said. "That helps more than you may realize. And one more thing?"

"Ma'am?"

"I gave you my locket to hold," Tenoctris said. She held out her right hand. "I need it back now. I must be whole to accomplish this task."

"Oh," said Cashel. "Right, it'll take me a moment."

He leaned the quarterstaff into the crook of his elbow so he had both hands to work with. The iron cap was likely to skid on the slab, so he held it between the toes of his right foot.

"Are you just going to give me the locket?" Tenoctris said, her voice sharp and rising.

"Yes, ma'am," Cashel said, concentrating on what he was doing. He had to be careful or he'd pull the thin chain in half. "Here you go."

He held out the locket and chain in the palm of his hand instead of dropping it into hers. That'd let her use both hands to put it on without snagging her hair.

"Cashel, I have a demon inside me!" Tenoctris said. "Didn't you wonder where my new power came from? With this locket in my possession, there'll be nothing and no one who can control me!"

"But you'll control yourself," Cashel said. He felt silly holding the locket and her not taking it. She'd even lowered her hand so he couldn't just drop it in her palm after all.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Tenoctris," he said, "I saw the demon. He didn't want to try conclusions with me, and I don't guess he got very far with you either. At any rate, you're still Tenoctris. So here's your locket back, if you need it."

Tenoctris took the locket. "You were a very good shepherd, weren't you, Cashel?" she said.

He smiled. "Yes, ma'am," he said. "And I hope I still am."

He took the wool out and wiped his staff, especially the part he'd stuck into the salt water. He hoped he'd be using it for many years to come; and if he wasn't, well, at least at the end he wouldn't have to be ashamed that he hadn't taken care of his tools.

Tenoctris starting chanting words of power. A disk of wizardlight flickered between her upraised arms and began to extend into a tube

Cashel put away his wool and watched his friend. He just stood where he was, smiling faintly with his feet braced. To anyone looking at him, he was as solid as the Fulcrum of Worlds itself.

* * *

"All right," Lord Attaper said. He sounded irritated and a little bored, but certainly not frightened of the behemoth crawling toward them. "Captain Ascor, get her highness out of here fast. Get her back to Valles, I think. I'm afraid you'll have to improvise on logistics."

"No," said Sharina. She nodded to the Corl wizard. "I need to stay with Rasile."

The ground shook as the creature lurched toward the siege lines. Four paddle-like legs drove it, so it as much swam as walked.
It's certainly not a crab
, the back of Sharina's mind noted. Her mouth smiled at the way people think about trivia when they have only moments to live.

"Ascor, I said—" Attaper roared, blasting his anger out at his subordinate because he couldn't, even now, shout at the Princess Sharina.

Sharina stepped between the men, facing the guard commander at inches distance. She was tall for a woman, tall enough to meet his eyes or nearly so.

"Attaper," she snapped, "the world will live or die because of what that wizard—"

She pointed toward Rasile without turning her head.

"—is able to do right now. If she needs help with her art—with her
wizardry
, Attaper—are you going to understand what she's asking for?"

Attaper edged backward. His expression had gone from furious to neutral; when his eyes flicked to follow Sharina's gesture, he frowned in concern. A few of the Blood Eagles were comfortable around wizardry, but their commander wasn't among them.

"Right," said Sharina, turning away. "You do your job, milord, and leave me to mine."

And the crab would do its job or anyway take its pleasure, and then Sharina wouldn't have to worry about the problems of ruling the kingdom or much of anything else. She stood with one hand on the wicker battlement, facing Rasile. If the wizard
did
unexpectedly request something, Sharina'd be ready to supply it.