Exile's Return (Book 1) (46 page)

Reaching out with his free hand, Micah pushed down the latch. The door opened without any trouble and he entered the room, looking for Robert amidst the jumble of furniture, books and papers which littered the room. Even by normal standards the room was a mess. And there was Robert by the fire. Dressed in his customary black, his body stretched out on one chair with his feet resting on the arm of another. He appeared to be asleep.

Micah studied him for a moment, placed the tray down on a table close by. With a glance at the fire to make sure it would not die out, he headed for the door.

‘Micah?’

‘Yes, my lord?’ Micah spun around, trying not to sound over-eager.

Robert opened his eyes and regarded him across the room. He was silent for a long minute, then he said, ‘They’re all worried, aren’t they?’

Micah nodded.

‘Tell them not to, will you?’

‘Of course, but if I may ask, why should we not worry?’

‘Because I’m not worth the trouble. Trust me.’

Micah measured the tone of his master’s voice, then took a step forward. ‘I do,’ he replied simply. ‘I always have.’

Robert’s eyes latched on to him. Micah was unable to move under that penetrating gaze, but after only a few moments his master looked away. ‘Well, perhaps that was your first mistake.’

Micah wanted to retort, but kept his head. ‘I think perhaps you need to go away for a while. I think you need to go and visit …’

‘No.’

‘But she …’

‘No,’ Robert turned back to Micah with dull eyes. ‘I can’t and that’s all there is to it.’

Micah’s heart sank once more. He turned to go, but as he approached the door, Finnlay came sailing through, his arms full of tightly rolled manuscripts.

‘Ah, Micah, there you are! I’ve been looking for you!’ Finnlay smiled breezily. ‘I found something that might interest you.’

As though Robert were not even in the room, Finnlay began clearing a space on the big table and dumped his armload of scrolls. He rustled through them then picked a single one out, unrolled it and weighted it down with the nearest things to hand, an ink stand and a compass.

‘Now,’ he continued glancing up to make sure Micah was
standing close by, ‘remember how you were asking about the palace of Bu? And whether it had really been built by sorcerers a thousand years ago? Well, look at this. It’s a detailed drawing done of the palace by a historian some seven hundred years ago. I knew I had it somewhere, but it took me till this morning to find it. Here on the west face, see that marking there? It’s a hieroglyph depicting an underground tunnel. The tunnel goes from the desert here right under the palace to the central domed area. The really interesting thing is that this tunnel was carved out of solid rock.’

Micah stared down at the drawing on the table, then shot a glance back to his master. Robert had returned to his reclined position, his eyes closed once again. Turning back to Finnlay, he saw that the younger lord was, despite his casual manner, extremely aware of what his brother was doing. Finnlay’s eyes appealed for help; it seemed he had a plan.

‘Solid rock? What’s so amazing about that?’ Micah asked, hoping that it was the right question. From the brief glint in Finnlay’s eye, it was.

‘Nothing really – except that the tunnel is over five hundred feet long and according to this drawing, its walls are as smooth as ice.’

Despite the main purpose behind this discussion, Micah found he was genuinely intrigued. His eyes dropped to the drawing again. ‘What does this mean, here? I can’t read this language.’

‘I’m not exactly fluent in it myself. That says “door to the inner soul” – I assume some kind of royal inner chamber.’

‘Who was the historian? Did any text accompany the drawing?’

‘If there was, it’s long lost. I got this from a monk in Sethlien about five years ago.’

Robert’s quiet voice filled the silence. ‘Cordor.’

Finnlay paused, glanced over his shoulder and, with a nod, acknowledged the correction. ‘Cordor it was. Anyway, the monk had been going through his library and was about
to throw all this stuff out – fortunately I was able to help him get rid of it. He had no idea what it all was, again, fortunately. Tell me, when you visited the palace ruins, did you see any sign of this tunnel? If this drawing is accurate, it just about proves that there had to be some kind of arcane work done on the building at its inception. It could confirm that Bu was indeed a home of sorcerers – and possibly the place where the Key was created!’

A scuffle of feet and furniture behind them warned them of Robert’s approach. They parted as he came between them. He reached forward and with a swift movement which almost dislodged the ink well, he turned the drawing around until it was upside down. He planted his finger on the place where the tunnel seemed to end. ‘This is an above-ground causeway, not a tunnel, and it goes across the east face, not the west. Its walls are covered in faded hand paintings of ochre on bare rock which show no signs of fading. You bought the drawing from the monk who was glad to get rid of it because he feared it was blasphemous and would condemn him to an eternity of flames. And,’ Robert paused for effect, ‘he knew exactly what it was.’

There had been no anger in Robert’s monologue, merely a purposeful crispness. Micah glanced at Finnlay, hoping he knew what to do next. So far it seemed the plan was working.

Finnlay did know. ‘Oh, really? Well, if you’re such an expert, brother, what does this mean?’ He reached across the table and brought forward another, smaller sheet of vellum, illuminated down one side with gold, reds and blues. ‘As far as I can make out, it clearly mentions the Calyx, and the fact that it was kept in a building on the other side of what we now know as Marsay.’

It was nicely done, but Robert was no fool and didn’t immediately take the bait. He paid no attention to the paper Finnlay held; instead watching his brother with a mixture of suspicion and cunning. ‘The Calyx? That’s quite a coincidence.’

Finnlay shrugged without rancour. ‘Coincidence or not, read it and tell me I’m wrong. I dare you.’

For a brief second, Micah thought he’d seen the barest shadow of a smile flash beneath Robert’s features. It was too quick to pinpoint and was immediately overwritten by a frown as Robert took the paper from Finnlay’s hand. ‘Fine, have it your own way.’

Micah tensed as the silence grew. He shot a questioning glance in Finnlay’s direction and received a steady look as confirmation. But was this all just a ruse or had Finnlay actually found some information as to the whereabouts of the Calyx? To his knowledge, there were only two other documents which told of the Calyx, its value and its relationship to the Key, but neither said anything about where it was. Micah knew: he’d read them both. He’d not understood them, but he had read them.

Finally Robert spoke. ‘You would do better spending the time practising your Saelic grammar, Finnlay. A more accurate translation of this would be, “from Kennis Town the Calyx was brought, in humble procession to lie within the walls of Thraxis’s home, in the shadow of Omaysis. There he wished it to lie safe until the day when man would know how to use it. The Great Marklord placed it well within safe keeping, locked from eyes who would abuse its power.”’

Robert glanced up. ‘Kennis Town is on the other side of Marsay, Finnlay. It didn’t go there, it came from there.’

A slow smile spread across Finnlay’s face. ‘Then all I need to do is find out what this Omaysis place is and I can find the Calyx.’

Robert shook his head, not taking his eyes from his brother. ‘You’re missing the point, Finn. Certainly this document mentions the Calyx – and I appreciate how your pulse must be pounding with enthusiasm – but it also mentions the Marklord having taken it. We know he lived long before the Calyx was created. This document must be a forgery.’

Micah’s heart sank as he heard those words, but strangely, Finnlay began to laugh quietly. Robert looked as if he would take offence but instead, his gaze narrowed and shifted back
to the paper in his hand. He placed it down on the table and in the blink of an eye produced his
ayarn
and held it out. On touching the paper, the amazing little stone began to glow softly – and Robert gazed up at Finnlay with genuine amazement.

‘Where in the name of the gods did you get this?’

‘Actually, I didn’t – you did. In one of those books you brought back.’

‘But I’ve never seen it before.’

‘Not surprising. You see, I had a little accident this morning. I dropped that big heavy book from Semsay and split the binding. Rather than risk you wringing my neck, I took it upstairs and tried to mend it. As I peeled off the leather to get a better hold of it, I found a corner of this page stuck between the binding and the back. It was difficult, but eventually I freed it.’

Robert nodded. ‘Then worked out this ridiculous charade in order to get me to take a look at it?’

Finnlay shrugged. ‘Hell, you don’t need to tell me my Saelic grammar stinks.’

With a slow nod, Robert glanced at Micah. ‘Did you know about this?’

‘No, my lord.’

‘Then I guess you have yourself the genuine article – and a surprising one at that. It mentions both Amar Thraxis and the Marklord together with the Calyx. I suppose that throws most Enclave learning to the winds. We’d always believed Thraxis was of a later era. Of course, to my mind, the most amazing thing is the connection between the Marklord and the Calyx. It opens up a whole realm of possibilities.’

Micah took a careful look at the page on the table. ‘Forgive my ignorance but who is Amar Thraxis? And this Marklord? I think I have heard you mention him, but remind me.’

‘Amar Thraxis was, we think, a member of the first order of the Guilde. He wasn’t very important as such, but he seems to have moved around a lot. His title suggests quite a low ranking, but since we have no access to Guilde records
we really don’t know anything solid about him. He apparently wrote a few books, but I’ve never seen them. Popular belief has it that he had a hand in creating the Calyx.’ Robert paused with his fingers gently touching the ancient parchment. ‘The Marklord, according to tradition, is the man who, by some process we know nothing about, created the House Marks. It has always been considered a remarkable achievement, but his original purpose has been lost along with his method. All we have left of him is the occasional literary mention and our persistent birthmarks. He was always understood to have achieved this work three hundred years before our earliest records of Thraxis.’

Finnlay took a few steps away from the table, deep in thought. Quietly he said, ‘There must be a reference somewhere about this place called Omaysis. The name doesn’t sound familiar but if we could just track it down …’

Robert struck the table with the flat of his hand, making the inkwell jump. ‘By all that’s holy, Finn, will you please stop leaping from one point to the other and pay attention! Very few things in life are achieved by perpetually taking short cuts.’

‘But Robert—’

‘Look!’ Robert almost shouted, but his anger was more noisy than real. ‘The answer is right under your nose.’

He thrust the page at Finnlay and waited for his brother to scan its contents again. When Finnlay looked up, obviously mystified, Robert reached over and tapped his finger on the left hand side. ‘The illumination, Finn. Look at the pictures. They’re not there just for decoration, you know. Look at the top, a horse caravan travelling over flat land. Below that a man with a trium held towards the heavens, and at the bottom of the page, two mountains, one with a strangely familiar peak.’

‘By the gods!’ Finnlay breathed. ‘It can’t possibly have been right in front of us all along.’

Micah couldn’t stand the suspense. ‘What mountains? Where?’

‘Nanmoor,’ Finnlay said.

‘It’s that small mountain range we skirted on our way to Elita, Micah. Remember I tried to point it out, but there was a low mist and the peaks were virtually invisible.’

‘But …’ Finnlay almost trembled, ‘I never really thought this was … This was just,’ he paused, glancing at his brother, ‘oh, never mind. I’ll get packing. Thanks, Robert.’

Finnlay started for the door, but his brother stopped him. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘What?’ Finnlay turned around. ‘What’s wrong now? You’re always complaining you never get any peace when I’m around. I’m doing you a favour. I’ll only be gone a couple of days.’

‘Peace?’ Robert murmured as though it were a private joke. To lighten it he added, ‘How much peace do you think I would get with Mother here day after day, telling me off for letting you go out alone in these troubled times? It was bad enough when you went to Marsay.’

‘What was bad enough?’ Lady Margaret stood in the doorway and glanced at both of her sons.

With a subtle movement, Robert slid the important page under a pile of innocuous ones. ‘Finnlay was just complaining of being bored, Mother. It seems I don’t give him enough work. He wants to travel north for a few days.’

‘Oh really? Where to?’

‘Not Marsay, Mother,’ Finnlay smiled to hide his sudden discomfort. With a warning glance towards Robert, he added, ‘I’ll be back before you know.’

‘I’m sorry, Finn,’ Margaret placed a hand on his arm, ‘but I don’t find that at all comforting. I can only think of what happened the last time Robert allowed you to leave Dunlorn alone.’

‘Oh,’ Robert said casually, coming towards them, ‘did I imply he was going alone? No, sorry, I don’t trust him, Mother. I will be accompanying him – so you can worry about both of us at the same time. Concentrate your efforts, as it were. However, Micah will stay and look after you, so you won’t have to worry about him, too.’

Lady Margaret looked as if she was about to hit him.
However, she had obviously noticed the sudden change in her eldest son, so she just lifted her chin, shooting a glance in Micah’s direction as though for confirmation. ‘I suppose I had better postpone my visit to Saint Hilary’s, then. Somebody should stay here and look after things. By the way, I just came up to tell you Daniel sent a message over to say he wouldn’t be coming tomorrow after all. Well, I’ll leave you to it.’