Three Hands for Scorpio (7 page)

Read Three Hands for Scorpio Online

Authors: Andre Norton

BOOK: Three Hands for Scorpio
6.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
SOMEHOW I WAS not astonished when I did mind-receive from the red one. The contact was not as clear as a meld with Bina or Cilla; it was more like a humming—or a purr. But it held the Power to allay fear completely, and I accepted that we had at least a partial bond.
The creature's message held neither words nor pictures, though I think that the latter might have been intended, for through its mind I looked briefly into a strange place I could view only dimly, as through veiling. At length I understood. This more-than-animal who had freed us wished for us to follow it. Because nothing but trust now existed between us, I called my sisters and prepared to go where it would lead us.
For a very short space, the glow of the gravel gave us sight of our footing. Tall plant growth, brush or even trees, rustled about us. As we moved in the wake of the banked-ember redness that was our guide, I realized that I wanted to know his name. This was no animal, and to think of it as such was wrong.
Four-legs who speaks with two-legs, how are you called?
I projected that thought with all the strength I could.
I was answered! Into my mind came a picture of what could only be a tree, though of such girth as I had never seen in our world. Up that mighty trunk sped a streak of vivid fur—
Climber?
I ventured. The purr sound soared into a crescendo of approval.
“This is Climber,” I said to Bina and Cilla.
Climber continued to lead and we followed. Our footing was solid until, after we had journeyed a short distance, the ground suddenly gave way. The three of us slipped down a bank, carrying with us chunks of clay, our guide skidding beside us, almost on his rump. I caught a flash of amusement at our shared indignity. Then he splashed into water, and a moment later the stream received us, too. Its flow was not wide, nor was it more than knee-deep; and embedded in the clay that floored it were more of the light stones, giving forth a wavering radiance.
Climber lifted his long tail, and drops flew as it struck my thigh just above the water-line. I accepted the offer and took the wet appendage into my hand. Joined to our guide by this unusual leash, I splashed ahead.
VERY FEW STREAMS flow straight. True to pattern, this one curved several times, until we were no longer headed toward the wall of our living dungeon but rather paralleling that barrier, or so I believed. The light of the stones reached the edges of the shallow flow, but not much farther. For safety as well as comfort against the unknown that loomed so overwhelmingly about us, Bina and I proceeded linked hand to hand.
Vegetation grew along the banks in patches, and the water had inhabitants. Many of these sported body parts that, like the pebbles, shed light. We caught glimpses of grinning heads, with teeth whitely visible, or foreand hind-limbs flashing by in shining streaks. Fortunately, all the aquatic folk fled from our path into the shore growth. Dancing above the water's surface were winged creatures, their shapes, too, dimly alight. None of this like had we ever seen before.
Suddenly I realized something else: a warmth was present the water itself ! I could almost imagine having stepped into a barrel-bath. On impulse, I paused and, loosing my fingers from my sister's, cupped my hands and raised water to ease my abraded skin. Bina followed my example, so we had to hasten to catch up with Tam and the creature she had named Climber.
All at once, the wall of rock rose directly above us—I must have been completely wrong in my reckoning. The stream ran on through an archway of stone. On the far side of that portal, its light seemed to glow the brighter.
Tam had not halted, so neither did we hesitate, but followed on. In addition to the light from underfoot, we now had more illumination. Our water passage ran on through its stony cleft, and on the right-hand wall, spiraling lines of crystal were plainly visible. It took me a few moments of observation to note that a definite pattern was described in the curving of the lines. Then Bina's hand, which had lain on my arm, turned to clutch me painfully and catch me to a halt.
“Look!” She did not touch the wall, but in the air her finger sketched one of the curling traceries of light.
M
y breath caught. I knew that sweep of line, those curls that met—so—then whirled off to form an intricate maze of circles. As if the pattern had ensorcelled me, I stood still, and my heart beat rapidly.
“Come on!”
Tam had half turned toward us, using mind-speech, not words.
“No!”
I defied the order with the same sharpness as it had been Sent, nor did I hold her gaze any longer to see how my answer had impressed her. Instead, I pressed my hands to the sides of my forehead, digging in fingertips with no regard for the pain they awoke from my bruises.
I closed my mind to the demands of the outer life—to everything but a search through memory. The words discovered there I repeated aloud:
“Armored by the ONE I stand;
On my right is She Who Bears
The Lanthorn of the Eternal Light,
The Sword of Stars unsheathed.
To my left is Brathan,
The BOOK OF ZORTAN in His hands … .”
Were my words actually visible in the air, as I saw them? Suddenly, something flew against the wall—or tried to, for, as swiftly as it had arrived, it was gone. The pattern continued to curl, its involutions leading the eye ever deeper into their mystic dance—but—
no!
Those lines, which had been so sharply defined, now showed crumbled edging as if the substance that produced the light were flaking away.
Still I held my ground.
“Thus it is read from the pages of the Book:
‘Light is greater than the Dark.'
The ONE said, ‘Let it be so.'
Thus it was so.”
I was reaching now. As far as I knew, even our mother, puissant sorceress though she was, had never had reason to perform this ritual. And to use it with Power under less than the tightest control was a peril such as I should rightly fear.
“By Yar and Yi,
By Water and Stone;
By Sky and Earth,
By the Center of all things,
And by their outward seeming—”
Hands caught at me abruptly, dragging me back, and I swayed. Then, from behind me, a hand descended over my lips in a stifling seal to silence my incantation.
“Be still!”
Never had I heard Tam's voice raised in such anger before. Her gag of flesh slipped from my chin; then her fingers bit into the flesh of my bare shoulders.
“Feel, you fool—feel!” she ordered, not loosing her hold.
Some of the strength called up by the cantrip had drained out of me. Then—yes, I felt. A foulness crawled about me, and I shivered with revulsion and fear; I felt as though a snake had wrapped a rough-scaled length around my body. The spell might be broken, but this was a backwash of Power such as I had never experienced.
“Come—”Tam kept her grip only on one shoulder. Meanwhile, Cilla
had stepped up to my other side. Together they urged me away from the wall and forward. Climber stood ahead of us in the water, lips wrinkled back in a snarl, tail lashing the stream to froth. Whirling around, the creature headed onward once more.
I continued to shiver from the cold within me—the stream that washed my body seemed warmer than I felt. After a few moments, I found my voice.
“That pattern—it is of the Dark. We may be going straight into the maw of Evil!”
“Not here,” Tam answered. “That pattern is very old. In its time, it had a meaning that would never have concerned us. No trap was set.”
How could she be so sure? I wanted to scream the question, but the words of protest died in my throat.
We splashed on. Once more the stream changed its path and rounded a curve; there more light awaited us. I stumbled on, still the captive of my sisters and our four-footed guide, until I was dragged out of the water into a huge cave, the full extent of which was hidden.
The cat-creature halted there. Once more that long tail swung in Tam's direction, and with her free hand she again grasped the sodden fur of the appendage. Linked as I now was to Climber through Tam, I felt a surge of that alien Power from the not-beast course through me—and suddenly I was freed from the Dark that had settled on me back in the tunnel.
I CAUGHT AT Bina as tenseness and resistance faded out of her, and I continued to tightly grasp her hand. Tam and the red beast had gone ahead. We followed at a slower pace, one dictated by Bina's now-unsteady feet. Much of interest lay about us, and my head turned continually as I surveyed our new surroundings.
As this cave chamber widened out, it was plain that the stream made a path across one end that continued to a place from which, halfway up the wall, a waterfall sprang from the rock. Green festoons of plant growth hung, like back-drawn curtains, on either side of this water-gate.
However, as we trudged on after Tam, the vegetation disappeared. Opening off the central room of the cave were a number of cavelets. One such alcove, ahead to our left, had a screen that walled it off from the
main chamber and rose to the height of our shoulders from the floor.
Tam had come to a stop directly before the screen, facing a ledge that lay opposite. There we joined her.
CLIMBER HAD BROUGHT me to a halt. I accepted that decision, just as I had come to understand that we could, in a manner, communicate. By this time, I knew that he was not only male but also no animal, in spite of his shaping, and I further understood that some matter of importance had compelled him to lead us here.
At this point, the wall ledge that lay opposite the screen-panel was occupied. For one startled instant, I thought we stood face-to-face with other inhabitants of the Dismals. Then I realized that we faced artifacts of mortal make, not flesh and blood.
A low, baked-clay bench, into which had been pressed a number of the light-bearing crystals, balanced there. Seated firmly upon it were two small statues. They had clearly not been meant to resemble humans such as ourselves. They possessed arms, legs, and bodies not unlike my own; on their square-set shoulders, however, were mounted truly alien heads. One possessed a round ball with no features marked upon it, though the substance from which it had been molded showed incised lines not unlike scars. The other towered a little above its peer, for its head was shaped in the form of a solid drop whose narrow point reached well above the ball. This figure also bore no face.
Yet, as I continued to study the pair, I felt no aversion to their oddity; rather, I was certain that they, and this place, held peace. I knew this because none of the protective Wards that had been set at our birthing awoke.
That strength which had brought us here suddenly vanished and, just as we had thirsted, so now we hungered. Mercifully, our need was answered at once. Beneath the ledge which supported those representations of—alien beings? unknown gods?—more shelves had been cut into the cave walls. And these were burdened with an array of edibles. As one, we moved toward them.
Pottery jars, crocks, and covered baskets we explored; then, sitting by the shelves, we ate. We could recognize dried fruit, though none of us could
identify the beast that had supplied the strips of preserved meat, or the grain from which lumpy cakes had been fashioned. A jug of juice served to wash down our larder-lootings, and potent stuff it was.
IN SPITE OF our training in herb-knowledge, I could put no name to any scent or taste I found among our new foodstuffs. However, our Wards raised no warning of poison in this unexpected feast, so I gave myself up to enjoying it. I was carefully licking satisfying jamlike stuff from one finger after another when Bina spoke:
“Tam, Cilla—where are we?”
I answered first, soberly, remembering the way we had prevented Bina from completing that dismissal of a possibly alien power.
“In the Dismals.”A short answer, but the only truth I could affirm.
Tam finished feeding Climber a strip of well-cured meat and made a reply different from mine.
“That we must discover. But first”—she shook her head, yawning, and that crudely cut lock flopped across one eye again—“here we can rest.”
She sounded so certain that we could not disagree. A moment later, Climber glanced at Tam; then, evidently sensing her weariness, he padded across the rock floor, his nose pointing to the screen. We did not even try to get to our feet as fatigue suddenly descended upon us. Leaving the evidence of our meal behind us, we crawled around the end of that flimsy provision for privacy.
The room beyond held a frame not unlike that of the truckle beds we knew, which were intended for personal servants or children. It was well supplied with bedclothes, showing the corners of several covers lapped one atop the other. But it was also plainly intended for a single sleeper. Following the custom we had employed from very early in our lives, we allowed luck to decide which bird would occupy this nest. The lot fell to Tam.
However, beside the truckle bed was set a basketlike chest, and we discovered that it held a wealth of other bedding, though to identify the various materials was beyond our powers at the moment. From them we mounded up two pallets, one on either side of the bed, and found them soothing indeed to bruised and weary bodies. Thus we slept.
MY AWAKENING WAS quiet but complete. The wan light of the room had not brightened, but I could see clearly as I sat up on the bed that chance had won me. What I saw made me catch hold of the top cover and pull it up to my chin.
Climber had joined someone who stood at the foot of the bed, surveying me as if I were one of the monsters that legend caused to lair in the Dismals.
The stranger was a fraction taller than my father. His clothing had been reduced to a minimum, either by the demands of the climate or a lack of local materials, until it consisted of a sleeveless jerkin fastened by a thong, and tight legginglike breeches. There was no sign of the buff coat or defensive half-armor such as any man venturing forth in the North wore as a matter of course.
Both jerkin and breeches were fashioned of a dark material that flickered with myriad tiny sparks of light, though those flecks were arranged in no pattern. A wide belt of gleaming mesh, supporting bags and sheaths, cinctured the trim waist beneath his broad breast.
I had not dared to look directly at his face, being more embarrassed than afraid. To be found naked as the One had made me (for I had shed the tatters Climber had left me), by a male in whose bed I had slept—! This was a situation that called for diplomacy, and that quality was not my strong point under the best of circumstances. However, I knew I must make an effort; I could only hope not to appear at too great a loss. I therefore raised my eyes to regard my examiner directly.
His skin was lighter than that of the men I had known who spent their days outside, and he wore no beard. Any male I knew would have sprouted chin whiskers in some fashion or another. The hair he did possess was thick and dark red; it fell in loose waves back from his forehead and was apparently clasped into control only at the nape of his neck. Down his left cheek ran the seam of an old scar.
The eyes, regarding me with a brooding stare, were as green as my own. However, it was not his continued gaze but a shielded quality about that look that troubled me. Here was one who might be sheltered by a strong personal Ward.
I tugged my cover higher. I would have preferred to pull it completely over my head, as well, yet I knew I must assert myself.
Must there be a Naming of Names? My sisters and I might just be driven to such a revelation. But I, Tamara, would not surrender the Power bound in the sounds that meant not only my body but my very soul until I was compelled to do so.
“If this be your hall,” I broke the silence at last, using the older and more formal turn of speech, “we have indeed entered without bidding. Climber found us in dire need and led us here, after Evil caught us in its toils through no fault of our own.”
Climber stood on hind legs, his forepaws against the stranger's thigh. Now he actually nodded his head as if testifying in his own way that I spoke truth.
“Who—”The newcomer began to speak, but he was interrupted by a choked cry. Bina sat up, then scrambled awkwardly to her feet, dragging her top cover about her—a pose in which Cilla speedily joined her.
He stared intently, turning his head to survey each of us. Cilla dropped a curtsey, then hurriedly pulled her covering tighter. Bina came to stand against the bed as if on guard.
“Who,” he began again after a sweeping appraisal, “are you three, so alike one unto the other, seeking sanctuary here?”
Our unwitting host was, indeed, questing for the names of his uninvited guests. However, I dared not even probe to find if my suspicions were correct that this stranger possessed a Talent not unlike ours.
His garb, as I had noted before, was utterly unlike that of the surface Northers. Now I noted another detail about his accessories: though a sheath resembling that of a short sword hung at his belt, it contained no sword—not even a hunting knife.
But the fact that the scabbard did not hold a weapon of bone or honed steel did not mean that it was empty.
My training had never brought me into an encounter with any adept save for the women of my own family. Yet I had long ago learned that elsewhere in the world, beyond this island continent where we had been birthed, dwelt others who dealt with the Light or the Darkness, and even with different Powers.
The intruder—no, it was we who deserved that title—was scowling now, his emerald eyes continuing to hold me. Yes, this man had Talent, but none
that I could measure; it did not feel akin to the Gifts that the House of Scorpio held with pride.
Cilia and Bina risked a unison Send to me.
“Tam, you must Name or otherwise explain us, or this one might force what he seeks from us by hurtful means.”
Reluctantly, I yielded. “We are Scorpys, daughters to the Earl of Verset, Alsonia's Lord Warden on the Border, and we are come by the queen's own choosing.”
“You are well north of the Border,” he returned. “Who—or what—brought you here in such a state?”
I was not going to allow him to scant me of the information due me in kind. “Under what clan banner do we now rest?”
He appeared to give that question some consideration. Again he studied us for a time; then at last he smiled. That expression laid to rest the greater portion of my uneasiness.
“The banner of my house no longer flies, my lady—not since Erseway. I am a man without kin or name.”
“All creatures bear names,” I objected, pointing to Climber, “even animals. Therefore you, too, must be called in some way.”
I did not miss the sudden tension of his body, or the fact that Climber looked at me and snarled.
“The Battle of Erseway was fought the day we entered the world,” I added. “To judge by your appearance, you were too young to have borne sword at that time.”
The stranger said nothing, but Cilla spoke after a moment. “That war is long ended, though the land suffers, as ever, from raiding and plundering along the Border. Our father has arranged a Truce meeting. He was at that council when we were taken.”
“Any hoped-for truce has surely been broken now,” I put in. “The last I heard, a hot tod was riding on the trail of those who took us, with sleuthhounds to lead them. The Starkadders will have much to answer for to their king in Kingsburke.”
Again our host allowed the silence to stretch, but at length he said, “I think perhaps it would be well to tell me the whole story, ladies—if I do, indeed, behold three of you and am not completely bemused.”
I was so far from the mood in which one tells such a tale that I answered shortly, moistening my lips before I spoke. “We have, sir, been left without proper clothing—”
He did not laugh, as I had half expected. The only emotion he continued to display was interest.
“Perhaps that is a lack which my stores can answer also.”He turned before I could answer, to disappear beyond the screen, leaving us to guess what his next move might be.
We learned soon enough. From the cave beyond we could hear movements. Our nameless host appeared again very shortly, holding a bundle against him. This he tossed onto the bed, nearly striking me.
“Use what you can. I have not fashioned garments for any but myself.” Then he took from his belt a bulging pouch, which gave forth a jangling as it, too, was flung to land on the sleeping-place. “When you will,” he concluded, “give me your story.” Before we could utter any thanks, he was gone once more.
We turned our attention to what he had brought. The more quickly we could garb ourselves, the faster we might be able to confront him again to learn what we must know in order to face the future.
I unrolled the bundle of clothing and spread it out on the bed for inspection. It proved to hold three sets of the long breeches, three of the jerkins, and three pairs of soft foot coverings, for each of which at least four layers of thick, close-furred hide had been used.
Cilla looked up after one appalled examination. Of us all, she had always delighted the most in attire that was attractively fashioned. “'Tis far from court dress, to be sure,” she observed ruefully. “But at least it is better than this.” She gave a disgusted snort and dropped her coverlet drapery and rags to the floor.
Bina's fingers fastened onto the pair of the legginglike garments nearest to me. She shook the breeches out. They proved to be crafted of two thicknesses of hide, and the seams were not puckered. Bina knew cloth well. I myself could sort wool, grade linen, and even gauge price on silk from overseas better than most merchants; but this stuff was far from any fabric I had ever handled.
In the first place, though the inner part, which would rest against the skin, was smooth, the outside was scaled. The color was gray, but it was brightened by a design formed of other scales, these being a light blue almost the shade of a good sword blade.
It could only have been reft from one creature, or—in what I had already begun to think of as “the Upper World”—many creatures of a kind
I knew: the serpent-kin. Still, when I once more inspected the interior, I found only two seams, not the many I expected. Nowhere could a reptile exist that would be large enough to provide such a skin as this! Still, snakeskin the material seemed; I could put no other name to it.
“Snake,” I voiced my discovery, passing the garment on to Bina, who tested its flexibility to discover that it seemed not unlike heavy silk.
“No!” Cilla had been reaching for a pair of the scaly breeks, but she withdrew her hand hastily. Bina, however, carefully examined the inner part, as I had done.
“Maybe a serpent-thing this large lived once and cast a skin, and that was preserved—”
Bina interrupted me. “Do you now suggest a dragon, Tam? There are no dragons … .” She fell silent as she half crumpled the leggings and they yielded, as strong cloth would not do.
I refused to consider any longer what might be the source of the material I was drawing on over my legs and up my body. The garments had not been tailored for me, and they did not fit tightly as did the leggings our host wore; they also rose well above my waist. The problem of keeping these clothes anchored now confronted us until Cilla remembered the bag the Nameless One had left.
She loosed its drawing string and shook forth the contents. What poured out before our eyes made us gasp aloud: a golden rivulet sparked with jewels. It was as if the stream through which we had waded the night before, with its glowing pebbles, had been turned by some alchemy to precious metals and gems.
“Treasure!” Cilla crowded closer. “So the legends are true after all!” She caught up a large brooch, part of which was a circle of jewels. They appeared gray to the first glance, but when the piece was tilted, each stone showed in its depths a slender ribbon of red-gold light.
I pulled free a twisted belt of what I thought was gold entwined with another metal. This cincture, too, held sparks of fire that slid along as if imprisoned just beneath the surface. I made good use of it to ensure the safety of my scaled leggings.
We hastened to make further use of our host's nearly overwhelming generosity.

Other books

The Messenger by Siri Mitchell
Cool in Tucson by Elizabeth Gunn
1876 by Gore Vidal
Switch Hitter by Roz Lee
Clowns At Midnight by Terry Dowling
The Undoer by Melissa J. Cunningham
- Black Gold 2 - Double Black by Clancy Nacht, Thursday Euclid