Sasharia En Garde (61 page)

Randart shifted impatiently, reminded yet again how much he
loathed and distrusted magic and mages. The warriors watched the mage rustling
desperately through the holly bushes that grew with profusion all along the
cliff face. Perran’s hands were soon pricked with scarlet, and his robe tangled
constantly on the sharp-edged leaves. But he kept at it until Randart snapped,
“Either you find a way in or die right now.”

Perran turned around, flinging his bleeding hands out. “Then
kill me,” he cried. “Because you won’t believe anything I say—”

A shimmer at the edge of everyone’s vision caused Randart to
start violently. The mage stumbled back. The trackers raised their crossbows.

The leaves rustled, and a small boy emerged, seemingly from
the stone. He was no more than nine or ten, with brown hair and a considering
hazel gaze. He wore ordinary riding clothes.

Randart stared in amazement, as a whisper hissed back down
the line: this was the boy who had won at the games.

o0o

My father staggered, laughing breathlessly into my filthy
hair. “Careful! I’m afraid I’m going to be a bit on the weak side until I learn
to live in my body again.”

I gave him a gentle squeeze then let him go, knuckling my
eyes. “What? Where were you?” I looked up into his face. He had aged along with
the rest of us.

He touched my cheek and gave me a crooked grin. “I had a
choice. I could go right out of the world, someplace where time stops, and I
would not age, nor would I know what was occurring at home. Or I could sleep in
body, but in mind I could learn how to watch. I chose the latter, though my
body aged, and though it took me a long time before I could master the art of
wandering in the . . . the realm of the mind, I guess you would
say.”

“Then—you know Randart is after me?”

“Yes.” Papa winced. “I have been watching him for several
years, now. I eventually even learned to hear his thoughts, a little. However,
this summer suddenly I could hear them all, as plain as if I were with him.” He
shut his eyes and cocked his head. “
Could
hear his thoughts, and anyone else’s I wished to. But those voices are fading.
His is already gone. Perhaps it is because I’m back inside my own skull, so to
speak. How limiting it is! Soon all I’ll hear is my own yammer. I’m yammering,
aren’t I, Sasha?” He gave a wheezy laugh. “Never mind. I do know where we had
better go, because there are two others I’ve been listening to, and they are
also here, as it happens.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think I’d better show you.” Dad drew in a deep breath.
“But I don’t know how fast I can walk.” He peered down and wiggled his toes.
“Especially barefoot. When I chose to sleep, I made myself as comfortable as
possible and that meant kicking off my shoes. They’re back wherever Glathan hid
my body while I slept.” He waved a hand vaguely.

“Well, why don’t you ride? I’m tired of riding. I’d as soon
shake out the kinks in my muscles.” I handed him the reins to the mare. “You
point the way, and we’re outa here.”

Dad gave me a pensive smile. “This way.”

o0o

Some of the men reacted with questions, but Randart raised
his sword. “Are you some kind of damned mage spy? What are you doing here?”

“I was sent to this mountain this summer, to further my
studies in history,” the boy replied. “You saw me at your games with some
friends. Just now I discovered that other humans were approaching. You can see
the outer accesses from certain vantages within,” he explained, pointing behind
him.

“Other humans, like a tall girl who has no business being on
this world at all?” Randart was angrier than ever at the unsettling situation,
the sense that he was swiftly losing control. When the boy did not answer, he
snapped, “Get out of my way.”

For a long moment, as the boy gazed steadily up at Randart,
the only sounds were the plop-plop of moisture from the trees, the snort of a
horse, and in the distance, the sweet, melodic song of a lark.

The boy said, “I really think you should reconsider. Return
to your royal city, as you promised. There is no cause for you to meddle here—”

A low growl of inarticulate rage began in Randart’s chest
and came out as a cry. He flung the sword like a spear straight at the boy.

Who sidestepped, raising an arm from which the loose sleeve
fell, revealing a metal-linked wrist guard. Swifter than sight his arm whirled
in a circle, deflecting the blade, which rammed into the twisted holly trunk,
vibrating.

Randart gasped, “Who
are
you?”

“My name is immaterial to your purposes, but for what it is
worth, it is Sven Eric.”

The mage gasped, his cheeks blanching.

The boy looked his way, saying quite kindly, “Not a modern
version of
that
name. I would hardly
be named after a fool. It’s a modern version of my Aunt Svenrael’s name.” He
turned his attention back to Randart. “Will you return to Vadnais?”

The war commander, goaded by his own action as well as the
result, by the implied secrecy of some name he’d never heard but which the mage
obviously recognized, said distinctly, “I will not permit anyone to interfere
with a lifetime of work.
Any
one. And
if you do not get out of my way I will kill you or this mage or whoever is in
reach, and not stop until that access lies open.”

The boy stepped aside. “Then ride within.”

When they passed the shimmer and their eyes had adjusted
enough to reveal purplish blotches along the tunnel walls, they discovered the
boy was gone.

Randart turned to the mage. “What name was he talking
about?”

The mage said flatly, “Sfenaraec. The one who Norsunder
was . . . founded on, over four thousand years ago. A name not
used since.”

Silence.

Randart said, “Be ready to shoot.”

o0o

Dad and I and the mare walked in silence until cool air
currents wafted up the tunnel, bringing the smell of running water and the low,
steady rumble of a waterfall. Above the sound we heard voices.

Dad put out a hand. “The last thing I heard from Randart was
his order to have us shot on sight. We cannot be seen.”

I gazed at him in surprise. “Randart is already ahead of
us?”

“I think he’s near. There are some others as well.”

We walked the last few steps and stared down at a vast lake
under another domed ceiling, this one about the size of one of those super
sports domes in the USA. Again, it was painted with gleaming, even glittering
stars, in constellations so specific I had a feeling they were astronomically
correct, and I blinked back in memory to childhood, standing on the stone edge
of the lake, looking up and thinking I was outside.

Then memory was gone—thought was gone—when I recognized two
of the voices.

One was my mother.

The other was Canardan.

Dad slid off the mare, wincing when he landed on his bare
feet. He leaned against the animal’s neck, his face hidden behind the wild
tangles of his hair, which, uncut for at least ten years, frizzed out
spectacularly, ahem, almost as wild as mine.

The eerily perfect acoustics carried the voices up to us as
if they spoke from a few yards away.

Canardan exclaimed with a surprised laugh, “Is that really
you, Atanial?”

Mom replied, “I could say the same to you.” She wasn’t
laughing.

I laid my hand on my father’s bony shoulder. “Come on, Dad,
we gotta tell them we’re here.
You’re
here.”

He turned his head. “I’ve been out of her life all these
years, darling. What I owe her now is a clear choice, not an impossible one.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, but my voice collided with
Canardan’s. “Who are these companions you’ve gathered about you?”

My mother stated in her Parent Night Voice—pleasant, even
bright and social, but quite determined. “Canardan, we have two missions. The
first, I am searching through here in case there is any chance, any possible
chance, I might find my husband. Yes, you may laugh, but at least we’re out of
the rain. Our second mission was to confront you. Once we’d made a circuit of
the kingdom gathering more women.”

“Confront me?” His laughter sounded forced. “What is this?
War in the bedroom? Except we are not quite there, are we?”

She said in a loud, clear voice, “The mission is to prevent
you, if we can, from creating a war in spring. Everyone here has children, or
nieces and nephews, or brothers and sisters, friends and lovers who enlisted in
the army in order to protect Khanerenth. Abrogating the treaty with Locan Jora
by invading it is not protecting the kingdom.”

During the silence that followed, Dad moved slowly the last
distance, with me at his side. We found ourselves on a kind of cliff, really no
more than a slab of granite forming an outcropping, directly opposite the
waterfall. There was a jumble of rock below it, a scree slanting down to a
lower natural balcony.

Dad stood well back, in the shadow of the fissure that made
our tunnel.

Canardan and his force were ranged up alongside the lake, a
huge broken-walled cavern behind them with the faint glow of day stippling the
rock. Apparently the lake was not part of the geliath, or at least not any
more. An ancient avalanche had opened it to the outside, so people could come
and go freely. During that long silence, I noticed that most of the surrounding
walls had been shored up, built, torn down, temporarily housing all kinds of
people, from thieves to political opponents—“people” constituting what the
morvende called sunsider humans, like us. The morvende had abandoned this lake
cavern way back when, leaving only that marvelous ceiling.

Mother’s army appeared to be in the hundreds, far
outnumbering Canardan’s force, but they were unarmed. They spread all along the
edge of the lake until they were quite near the waterfall, which thundered
directly into the lake from a fissure high above. The women seemed to have
reached the place within the last day or so, for I saw signs of a campsite, and
many had wet hair, and clothing spread over flat rocks.

As Mom spoke across that leg of the lake, they gathered
behind her in silence.

Canardan said, “Who is there? I cannot make out faces. The
light from this end runs reflections upward, making it difficult to see you.”

Mom said, “Never mind who, if you’re thinking of removing
people from their places in life, for there are far more of us even than you
see here. Some are on the way, others are gathering ahead, waiting for us to
catch up. I can assure you, if something happens to any of us, your troubles
will only begin. And that’s before you start your war.”

Canardan laughed again.

Then he said, “Atanial sunshine dancingstar from the far-off
world, will you marry me?”

I nearly choked, but Dad did not react at all.

I whispered to him, “Speak!”

“She has to have free choice, darling. If I pop up right
now, the choice is not free.”

I tried not to groan as I peered down. Canardan stood among
his warriors, tall, strong, with long waving hair. From the distance across the
lake he looked as handsome as I remembered him—unchanged.

“Did you hear me?” he asked, his voice the warm, kingly
voice I remembered from childhood, and had learned to distrust and even to
hate, with all my single-minded childish passion. I’d thought Mom hated him,
too, but obviously I’d not perceived a lot of things. “Marry me, Atanial. Marry
me and show me your right and my wrong. There’s never been a queen like you,
and maybe that’s what the kingdom needs.”

“I am already married,” Mom said, her voice high and tight.

“To a ghost? If you really believe Math is alive, then set
aside the marriage. You’ve waited longer than most would have. He’d understand,
especially if it was for the good of the kingdom. Come! Come, I ask you before
all these people, make peace and take your place beside me as my queen.”

Mom’s voice caught. “Canardan, that is probably the most
generous offer I’ve ever heard from you. But it is impossible.”

“No, it’s not. That’s the fun of being king. And queen. You
can do things you want to do. You give the orders, make it happen!”

Mom laughed, a kind of half laugh, half sob. “If you truly
want my advice, why not make me your adviser? You could do a lot better with me
than with Dannath Randart, I promise you that.”

“He’s right,” Dad whispered. “And she knows it. She’d make a
wonderful queen. She might even save the kingdom. If not Canardan.” He shut his
mouth, frowning down in unhappy intensity.

“As adviser, you’d argue with Randart every day.” Canardan
laughed again. “As queen, you would give him orders, and he must obey.”

“Again he’s right,” Dad murmured. Adding in a less neutral
voice, “Until Dannath has her killed.”

I fought against the instinct to yell out,
Mom
,
he’s
here!
“Dad, you have to do something.”

He shook his head. “Don’t you see? The important thing for
all is the kingdom. Your mother would make a better queen than I would a king.
The second most important thing is her happiness. He does love her in his
fashion. And I abandoned her.”

I kicked at the rubble in frustration, sending rocks
skittering back toward the mare, who snorted and backed up a step or two,
tossing her head.

Then Dad’s hand gripped my shoulder, and he pointed below
us. I heard vague sounds, mostly muffled by the water. Randart and his warriors
had arrived through another tunnel which gave out onto the natural balcony
right beneath us.

Mom’s and Canardan’s people were completely unaware of them.
They were too close to the waterfall. Its noise covered everything but their
own voices.

Most of Randart’s force began making their way down to the
lake, midway between Mom’s group and the king’s. Canardan and Mom were too
intent on one another to notice.