The Waterless Sea (33 page)

‘There' s more!' cried Oron. ‘She wants to be the Empress! She wants her half-brother, the Prince, to be Emperor!
That' s
her plan. Make her tell!'

Keela was staring at Darrow. ‘I know you,' she said slowly. ‘I have met you before.' She began to smile. ‘My brother introduced us!'

Darrow' s face was expressionless. ‘It is many years since I visited the Palace of Cobwebs. I' m afraid I don' t remember you.'

‘You don' t remember
me
?' Keela echoed incredulously. ‘Are you sure?'

But Mica had turned pale beneath her golden tan; she clutched at Tonno' s arm.

‘Her
brother
! A prince!' Suddenly she flung herself at Keela and pummelled her with her fists. ‘Who is it, what' s his name? Is it him, is it Samis?'

Keela tried to push the furious girl away. ‘Stop it, stop it! How dare you touch me? Yes, yes, his name is Samis, our true prince, my half-brother, the Emperor who
will be
. You' ll all be sorry, when he comes to claim what' s his!'

‘Mica, let her alone!' barked Tonno.

Freed from Mica' s breathless attack, Keela smoothed her hair. ‘It makes no difference, you silly little girl. None of
you
can stop him. When he returns, he will knock down all
this
like a pile of children' s blocks.' She waved a derisive hand around the bustling room, then turned to Darrow. ‘As for
you
–' she hissed. Flirting had not worked; she let her hatred blaze forth. ‘
You
will be especially sorry. You called yourself his friend! Traitor!'

Darrow said, ‘I have bad news, Keela. Your prince is dead, this half year.'

Keela tossed back her head. ‘You' re mistaken,' she said silkily. ‘Amagis saw him, and spoke to him, not three turns of the moons ago.'

‘Liar!' cried Mica. ‘I seen his dead body myself!'

Keela smiled, a secretive, infuriating smile. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, and said nothing.

‘Liar!' said Mica again, but with less conviction. She darted a look of alarm at Tonno and Darrow. Darrow' s face was closed and unreadable.

‘Where is he then?' demanded Tonno. ‘Here, in Merithuros?'

Heben, who had not spoken, said softly, ‘Mica, didn' t you bs, that Amagis had just come say, at the Palace of Cobwe back from Gellan?'

Keela' s impudent expression did not change, but her smile froze, and she turned her face away.

Darrow drew Tonno and Mica aside. He said, with a trace of bitter humour, ‘It would not surprise me. He always did feel at home among the tricksters of Gellan.'

‘But he can' t be alive!' whispered Mica passionately. ‘We saw him killed, we all did, whenTrout brought down the tower in Spareth!'

Soberly Tonno shook his head. ‘We saw him lying there, lass. But don' t forget, he' s a master of seeming. Mebbe he made it so we' d believe he was dead.'

‘But Trout ain' t never tricked by spells of seemin, and he thought he were dead.'

‘Trout never went close to his body. None of us did – except –'

They both turned to look at Darrow. His grey-green gaze was level and enigmatic. ‘The Power of Seeming works best when you want to believe what you are seeing,' he said. ‘On that night, I cannot deny it, I wanted to see Samis dead.'

‘He ain' t alive.' Mica' s mouth became a stubborn line. ‘He
ain' t
.'

Darrow made an impatient, dismissive gesture. ‘There will be time enough later to find out.'

‘What' ll you do with em?' Mica nodded back to Keela and Oron. The boy shuffled from foot to foot on the sloping floor, but Keela had found a bench to perch on, and preened herself under Heben' s watchful gaze.

Darrow ran a hand through his hair. ‘Guard them, until it is time to bring them to judgement. Tonno, I entrust you with that duty. Heben, I have other work for you, once the prisoners are secured.'

Heben bowed his head solemnly. Darrow turned to Oron, and his stern voice was tempered with gentleness. ‘You are young, and you have suffered. That does not excuse you, but it will be remembered when it is time to decide your punishment. Keela –' His voice grew more steely. ‘There can be no excuse for what you have done this day. Take her away.'

‘On your feet, my lady,' said Heben, with only a shade less than his usual courtesy.

As they left the room, they passed close to one of the new windows, and they paused to look outside. The silver pool had edged out and out, wider and wider, deeper and deeper, until it lapped at the very horizon, a vast rippling lake where the dry dust had been. The three moons sailed high in the sky, and three moons glimmered on the water.

Keela shivered, and turned her head away. ‘I don' t like it,' she whispered, and for once she spoke from the heart. ‘It frightens me. It' s not natural, so much water in one place.'

‘This is nothing,' said Heben, with a touch of world-weary pride. ‘Wait until you see the ocean.'

Even before the disgraced pair and their guards had left the room, Darrow was besieged once more. That night, he listened until his ears rang, and talked until he was hoarse. ‘I' m sorry, my lady, there are no scented soaps, or private bathrooms here. But one of the children will show you the washing-rooms downstairs. . . Brothers of the Army, I appeal to you, for the sake of Merithuros, to remain true to your ideals of courage, and service, and mutual help . . . Children, I need you to open more windows, more colonnades. Let in the air and the moonlight . . . Those of you who want to stay are welcome.Yes, I will arrange for the rest of you to return home . . .Yes, Lord Sorcerer, I understand that the ancient grievances still rankle. But if you can lay them aside, we will build a future where chanters do not need to hide away. . .Fenn, your brother and sister rebels will have a most important role in building the new republic. Tell them to think carefully about the shape it will take. I will speak to them soon. . .Heben! I have a task for you. I need to send messengers to all the Clans. Tell them what has happened, and invite them to join in the building of the new Merithuros. Word the messages with care. We will need the Clans, but they must realise that they will have to work with the others. The days when the Clans lorded it over the rest of the Empire are gone.'

‘I understand,' said Heben solemnly, and there was a glow of excitement about him as he set off to see to his task. Darrow watched him go with a thoughtful expression in his eyes.

Finally, just before dawn, Darrow asked each group to choose representatives, to meet in a grand council the following day. ‘And then our real work will begin.'

Somehow Calwyn had created a precious space of goodwill and calm; he could not know how long it would last, and they had to act quickly. The new Merithuros could not be built in the space of a single night, but they could lay a foundation, while the precarious healing held, to secure a peaceful future for the years to come.

When at last Darrow was left alone, he sat for a time with his hands pressed to his eyes. He was weary beyond imagining; he feared that if he relaxed even for a moment, the whole delicate structure would collapse again into chaos. And yet he was alive with a strange energy: the energy of a power that was not magic, a worldly power, an authority he had never suspected in himself.

Presently he took his hands from his eyes. He covered one hand with the other, the Ring of Lyonssar between them. He had taken the ring from Samis' s cold, bloodless finger. Was it possible that Samis still lived, that even now he was in Gellan? Darrow could well believe that Amagis had lied to Keela, for reasons of his own. But he would have to find out for certain. He could feel the steady, reassuring pulse of the jewel, like a second heart.

Slowly he rose, and crossed the room. Between the door jamb and the wall was a crack, only as wide as a hair. With a careful chantment he prised it apart, inserted his fingers into the hollow, and drew out a tiny carving. It was a wooden hawk, as high as his thumb, wings folded, head turned, like the birds that perched on the roof of the Palace and scanned the desert for prey.

Samis had called him Heron. But Calwyn always said,
you
look like a hawk.
He would never be Heron again.

He closed his hand around the little carving, and went to Calwyn.

She lay in the bed that Halasaa had occupied, and Halasaa had taken her post beside it. He looked up as Darrow entered. ‘How is she?'

She is sleeping. The swoon has passed.

Darrow drew up a stool and clasped the hand that lay limply on the covers. He looked at her pale face, the dark plait over one shoulder.

‘I' m glad you are here to watch over her, Halasaa. I' m glad you are recovered. We were afraid for you.'

The sickness in this land has begun to heal, and I am healing with it.
Thanks to Calwyn.

‘Have you ever heard of anyone healing a land before?'

No. It is a remarkable thing. But every chantment of healing has its
price. And this has cost her dearly.

Darrow looked up; Halasaa' s bright eyes watched him across the bed. Gently Halasaa touched Calwyn' s face with the tips of his brown fingers: her eyes, her mouth, her forehead.

She has lost the gift of chantment.

Darrow looked down at her hand, and his own hand holding it. The ruby ring seemed dull now, an ordinary stone, dark and colourless, like muddied water. He said blankly, ‘But that can' t be. The gift, once given, cannot be taken away. And besides –' He stopped.

Go on.
Halasaa' s voice was gentle.

Darrow looked at him keenly. ‘You know it, don' t you? She is the one. She should be – what Samis wanted, the Singer of all Songs. She will be, one day.'

Halasaa shook his head.
Not now. She has lost it all. Like Samis,
she reached beyond her strength. She was not ready for such a powerful magic.
It almost consumed her.

‘No!' said Darrow fiercely, and he leapt to his feet, letting Calwyn' s hand fall. He strode around the small dark room. ‘No. No.'

The Power of Tongue remains, perhaps. Perhaps not even that. The flame
has almost gone out.

Darrow stopped pacing, and gave a bitter laugh. ‘All this time, I would not see it, I did not want to see it. I would not speak to her of it, I never
helped
her. She bore that burden alone. I was too proud. And now – now it is too late –' He sank down again on the stool and buried his head in his hands.

Halasaa moved silently to his side, and laid his hand on his friend' s shoulder.
It is not too late for you to help her. She has never
needed your help more.

Darrow felt the pressure of Halasaa' s hand lift from him, and the faintest sound as he walked from the room, and left him alone with Calwyn.

He put the little carving of the hawk into her hand, and folded it in both of his. And whether it was the warm clasp of his hands, or the words he whispered to her, by the time the bells struck for sunrise, Calwyn had opened her eyes.

eight
From the River, the Sea

S
OME DAYS LATER,
Calwyn sat with Mica on a newly opened terrace on the southern side of the Palace, where the sun was warm but not too strong. The Palace stood straight now; for the first time, all the iron-chanters had sung together to haul it level. The children had decorated the walls with friezes like those that had adorned the Palace of Cobwebs, and the long wall behind the two girls bloomed with stone flowers and fruiting vines and
nadi
, frozen in mid-scamper.

‘Do you want another cushion, Cal? A glass of that cordial?'

‘No, I don' t need anything. Don' t fuss, Mica.' Calwyn turned her head restlessly. For all her protests, she still felt shamefully weak. And the raw pain of the loss of her powers was as keen as the first moment she' d realised they had gone. The loss of a limb, or the loss of her sight could not have been more devastating. It was like a terrible dream, a dream from which she struggled to wake, but could not.

That first morning, she had sent Darrow and Halasaa away, not wanting them to witness what she knew, deep in her heart, would happen. She sat up in the narrow bed, in that dim room, with a tin cup of water in her hand, and she had sung the simplest of all the chantments of ice, the first song that the novices learned in Antaris. The words seemed to stick in her throat; at first she thought that was the trouble. But soon the words returned to her. She sang the simple chantment again and again, staring stupidly at the water which would not harden into ice. Not the third time, nor the tenth, nor the twenty-seventh. Nothing she tried could unlock magic that refused to flow.

Even as she sang, she knew it was all wrong. The song fell dead from her lips. Nothing stirred within her; the familiar thrilling tingle of her skin as the power rose never came.

At last she' d fallen silent, still staring into the cup. Someone had knocked at her door, and she' d screamed, ‘Go away! Go away!' With her eyes screwed shut, the cup hurled away and the water spilled, the noise of her screaming filled the inside of her head with red light, until Darrow came, and held her tightly, and muffled her desperate cries against his shoulder. He held her until her screams became dry, racking sobs, and then she thrust him away.