Authors: Violette Malan
The Mirror Prince (44 page)
“Max!” she called. “Max!” Through the openings in the net she could see him take two steps toward her, hefting the Spear in his left hand. That wasn’t what she wanted. “Go!” she yelled. “The Hunt comes. Go!” As he hesitated, drawn back by Lightborn’s hand on his arm, Cassandra gave him what she hoped was a confident smile. She tapped the torque at her throat, hoping he could see what she was doing under the net.
“I still live!” she cried out, and had the satisfaction of seeing Max’s acknowledging grin before—
SLAM!
At the Wild Rider’s camp, Lightborn was quiet a long time when he was told about his home, long enough that Max started to feel a reluctant concern. But he couldn’t let Lightborn’s obvious shock and sorrow distract him from the explanations he needed. The Wild Riders had seated the wounded Griffin Lord on a rock, well-padded with saddlecloths, while their Healer—a Dragonborn Sunward, Max noticed—bound up Lightborn’s wounded arm, apparently without the
dra’aj
to Heal him outright. Max needed to hear what Lightborn had to say, needed to know whether he could trust him again. Now, above all, he needed this distraction, when his whole body shivered with the necessity of going to Cassandra immediately, though he knew it was the wrong thing to do, though he told himself that if they had wanted her dead, they would not have used the net.
dra’aj
to Heal him outright. Max needed to hear what Lightborn had to say, needed to know whether he could trust him again. Now, above all, he needed this distraction, when his whole body shivered with the necessity of going to Cassandra immediately, though he knew it was the wrong thing to do, though he told himself that if they had wanted her dead, they would not have used the net.
Finally, Lightborn nodded, opening his eyes and taking a deep breath that was almost a sob. “I am happy I did not know this when I was with the Basilisk, just now. Not even
my
powers of dissembling could have saved me. But
his,
” Lightborn shook his head, lower lip between his teeth, “his are greater than I would have thought possible. Was he so sure of me, then?” He looked up at Windwatcher. “No,” he said, in answer to the older Rider’s question, “I did not know where my mother hid. We often thought it best that there were things I did not know.”
my
powers of dissembling could have saved me. But
his,
” Lightborn shook his head, lower lip between his teeth, “his are greater than I would have thought possible. Was he so sure of me, then?” He looked up at Windwatcher. “No,” he said, in answer to the older Rider’s question, “I did not know where my mother hid. We often thought it best that there were things I did not know.”
Windwatcher grunted. “Are you saying that your mother knows you are a traitor?”
Good question,
Max thought.
Max thought.
“I did not think,” Lightborn said, gritting his teeth as the Wild Rider helping him tightened the bandage and tied it off, “that I was a traitor.” He frowned, looking up at Max. “Though it sounds trivial now, even self-serving, I never meant to choose between you. I never thought there was a need. You had always been at odds, you and Dreamer, when we were young. Too much alike. I thought your dispute with him a mere continuation of this. At first, I told myself I could reconcile you; I saw myself earning a place in the Songs as the great Peacemaker.” He shook his head, hissing softly as he let the Wild Rider draw a well-worn leather shirt over his arm.
“I thought you should let the Talismans choose. Either they would choose him, or they would not.”
Blood on the Snow looked as if he would speak, but Max held up his hand, and the older Rider relaxed once more. Lightborn needed to do this, Max knew, to purge himself.
Lightborn continued, absorbed in what he was saying. “I did not consider the right or the wrong of the matter. I did not see that there
was
a right or a wrong. I only saw that you were acting willfully, denying something to Dreamer of Time because of old wrongs. I see now that I thought the Talismans
would
choose him. I see now that I always thought he had the right of it, that I let him lead me, decide for me, because I thought he would win. It is . . . easier to be on the winning side.
was
a right or a wrong. I only saw that you were acting willfully, denying something to Dreamer of Time because of old wrongs. I see now that I thought the Talismans
would
choose him. I see now that I always thought he had the right of it, that I let him lead me, decide for me, because I thought he would win. It is . . . easier to be on the winning side.
“I never thought of what I was doing as betrayal. You were both my friends, almost my
fara’ip
. I thought you could speak to each other through me. I told myself I never chose him, you see, so I told myself that I never betrayed you.”
fara’ip
. I thought you could speak to each other through me. I told myself I never chose him, you see, so I told myself that I never betrayed you.”
“You betrayed them both,” Blood said.
Lightborn nodded, his gaze fixed on that long ago, far away time, on the Rider he had been then.
“You could say that finally the Basilisk chose for me,” Lightborn said. He looked up at Max, a ghost of his former grin appeared on his face. “One day I found that my ability to say ‘no’ to him had vanished. That my loyalty to you,” here Lightborn shook his head again, a spasm of pain crossing his features, “that what I saw as my loyalty to you, would cost my life, and more than my life. I began to be afraid. Is that when you knew?”
“I guessed,” Max said, thinking back to that time.
“Now, of course, many people know that disloyalty to the Basilisk can bring much worse than death. Now he has the Hunt.” Lightborn frowned. “The Basilisk Prince. People little understand how well he is named. His heart is a living stone. A hard reflection of a true prince, like an image in a mirror. The calling of the Hunt is not the greatest of the evils he has done. I began to understand, to learn, during the Banishment. You were right, all those years ago. He is a Basilisk, and he will make the Lands a brittle place, as smooth as glass. A reflection of his emptiness, his cruelty. Better we should not be, better we should Fade, if it is our time, than that we lose our nature. I believed myself changed when I became aware of what he really was, I confessed to my mother, but there was little then that we could do but wait for your return. Then came the rumor that the Basilisk had the Chant of Binding, and I was once more afraid. When we met at my mother’s house, when you did not know me . . .” Lightborn shrugged, hissing in his breath as his movement jostled his injured arm.
“Once again you did not choose,” Blood said.
Lightborn nodded. “How well you see me.” He straightened as much as he could, still sitting on the padded rock. “I think that even then I was telling myself I did not need to choose that neither of you knew.”
“Have you chosen now?” Windwatcher’s growl was menacing, and Max saw that he was not the only one who’d had doubts about Lightborn. But unlike Windwatcher, Max had not seen the ruins of Griffinhome.
Lightborn looked up at Max. “You saved me,” he said. “In peril of your life, and more than your life, you waited to save mine. You
are
the Prince Guardian, and you hold the Heart of the People. The Sword of Truth stood at your right hand. I was dying, and at your bidding, that same Sword touched me and restored to me my life. Whether you knew yourself or not, at that moment, you showed me what the Heart of the People truly is, you showed me
your
true nature. That you would risk everything to do what was right. What further signs did I need to direct my path? At that moment, truly, I chose.”
are
the Prince Guardian, and you hold the Heart of the People. The Sword of Truth stood at your right hand. I was dying, and at your bidding, that same Sword touched me and restored to me my life. Whether you knew yourself or not, at that moment, you showed me what the Heart of the People truly is, you showed me
your
true nature. That you would risk everything to do what was right. What further signs did I need to direct my path? At that moment, truly, I chose.”
Max searched Lightborn’s face, as if there would somehow be some mark. He found himself convinced, not by what was there but by what wasn’t there. Lightborn was relaxed, Max saw, completely relaxed without any of the brittle tension that had characterized him for so long. Max held out his hand, but when Lightborn took it in both of his and ducked his head to kiss it, Max pulled him to his feet, and into his arms.
“I would have waited for dancing girls,” he said gruffly.
“I would suggest that we wait no further,” Blood said, after a moment had passed. “This camp is known to Walks Under the Moon, and it cannot take her long to bring the Basilisk’s forces down upon us.”
“I am not certain that Moon will continue to aid the Basilisk,” Lightborn said, “now that her sister has been separated from the Prince. Moon’s motivations are entirely personal; her purpose is to restore her
fara’ip,
not to help the Basilisk.”
fara’ip,
not to help the Basilisk.”
Max nodded, his hand on Lightborn’s shoulder. “As you’ve shown us, people don’t always get to choose whether they’ll help the Basilisk,” he said. “We have to plan for what she
can
do, not for what she
might
do. She has been here, she can bring others.” He lifted his hand to his throat and touched the dragon torque resting on his collarbone. “We’ll split up, and I’ll join you once I’ve found Cassandra.”
can
do, not for what she
might
do. She has been here, she can bring others.” He lifted his hand to his throat and touched the dragon torque resting on his collarbone. “We’ll split up, and I’ll join you once I’ve found Cassandra.”
“You cannot go, my lord,” Windwatcher said. “Send me, I will take some of my men—”
Lightborn turned to speak to the older Rider but paused when Max held up his hand. “I am the only one who
can
go—”
can
go—”
“My lords.” It was one of the Moonward twins. “My lords, Walks Under the Moon has brought the Singer Wait for the Dawn to have speech with you.”
Max lowered his hand and looked at the Riders with him. Windwatcher had put his hand on his sword hilt without seeming aware of it; Blood pursed his lips in a silent whistle.
Lightborn shrugged, grinning broadly. “As ever, you are proven correct, my lord Guardian.”
Max knew from the borrowed motley that the young Singer Twilight Falls Softly wore in camp that Singers in the Basilisk Prince’s court were forced to wear his colors but it was still a shock to see this Starward Singer dressed in solid magenta.
“Since when have Singers worn any colors but their own?” Max smiled pleasantly as the Starward Singer’s ivory cheeks reddened. It showed sense to send a Singer to parley. Even Solitaries and Naturals recognized the neutrality of Singers as the keepers of the People’s histories, teaching them their own Songs so that nothing would be lost. But to see a Singer in the Basilisk’s deep magenta livery rather than in the traditional multicolored clothing . . . Max shook his head. It only underscored what Lightborn had said of the Basilisk’s goals.
“My lord Guardian,” the Singer said, bowing. His voice was well-modulated and pleasing, but his greater Gift lay in his memory, not in his singing voice. “The Basilisk Prince sends you greetings, and asks that you meet with him.”
“No.” Windwatcher and Blood on the Snow spoke in unison. Lightborn merely laughed.
“You see how I am counseled,” Max said, shrugging and spreading his hands. “I do not believe that the Basilisk has anything to say to me that he has not already said.”
“My lord Guardian,” the Singer said. “I was instructed that if you refused, I was to tell you that the Basilisk holds Sword of Truth, and that he wishes to discuss with you how she might be set free.”
“And does her sister, who stands with you, have nothing to say to her freedom?”
The Singer turned with a courteous bow to Moon, but the young Rider looked away, studying her feet. It was impossible to tell from the way she shook her head whether she was under coercion herself, or whether she helped the Basilisk willingly. In spite of what she had said, Max found it hard to believe that Moon would actually stand by and let the Basilisk harm Cassandra.
“Wait.” Lightborn stepped forward and put his hand on Max’s forearm. “What proof can you give us that Sword of Truth still lives?”
Max touched the dragon torque at his throat, its warmth all the answer he needed. Still, let Lightborn’s question stand. What would the Basilisk’s answer be?
“She has bid me to remind you, if I had speech of you, my lord Guardian, that it is better to be a dead lion than a live jackal.”
Max cut off his laughter before the tears under it rose to the surface. He nodded at Lightborn’s questioning face. Only Cassandra would have thought of that.
“Tell me his offer,” Max said, when he could trust his voice.
“He will free Sword of Truth and allow her to live in peace wheresoever she chooses if you will give him the Talismans.”
Max opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Strange how something could still shake you, even though you expected it. Some little part of him still believed, somehow, that the Basilisk would not dare to ask.
“I tell you we waste our time.” Moon’s voice cut through the cold air between them. “He will not do it. He will let her die before he fails in his Guardianship,” Moon almost spit the word out. “Sword of Truth is nothing to him.”
Max ignored this, though he wondered how he had never noticed just how much the younger Rider hated him. “You will give me some time to consider?”
“If I may, I will stay and await your answer.”
“In spite of the colors you wear, you may stay.” Max took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. He pointed at Moon. “
She
may not.”
She
may not.”
Still not looking at him, Moon made a sneer of distaste, and with a CRACK! she was gone.
Max stood alone in the tent they had put up to house the Talismans. He hadn’t looked beyond this moment, beyond having them with him again. Beyond saving them from the Basilisk. Everyone had thought that finding them, keeping them from the Basilisk, would be all that was needed. Did they seem more awake now? He couldn’t be sure. It may have been only that they were together now, and he with them. Four now, after so many turns of Sun, Moon, and Stars, instead of only three. He cupped his hands around the Cauldron, bent forward until his face was in the bowl, as if he were dipping his face into a basin of cool water. What if they were five, not four? What if he took them to the Stone? There could be no safer place for them . . .
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