The Gift (56 page)

The black mood that had possessed her since the Council slowly lifted, as if the sun broke after a long, bitter night of the soul. At the same time, she felt an immense weariness sweep over her.

“I’m sorry, Cadvan,” she said quietly, still looking into the garden. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I couldn’t help it, when . . .” She trailed off. Cadvan’s confession had driven the vision in the Crystal Hall out of Maerad’s head. Now the memory returned, but instead of terror she felt a resolve hardening within her. Her collapse had been provoked by the darkness within the Flame; she was absolutely certain that it sensed her, that it sought to destroy her, to bewilder and obscure her mind. It had blighted her with a desolate hopelessness, and all around her had seemed foul and corrupt. She couldn’t permit that to happen to her again.

“And now,” said Cadvan, breaking her reverie, “you can tell me what caused all this.” His voice was normal again, and she remembered what Nelac had said of him:
If he seeks to keep something hidden, it is near impossible to find it out.
Yet Cadvan had permitted her to see what he kept hidden, and his humility and trust in doing so had shaken her. She tried to order her thoughts.

She now told Cadvan why she had fainted and what she knew of Enkir. She could not keep the hatred out of her voice, her contempt and loathing for Enkir’s treachery, and she felt the desire for revenge grow hot inside her as she spoke. Cadvan sat close by her, listening intently, and did not interrupt, though his face grew more and more grim. When she finished her tale, he stood up and walked to the window, gazing into the garden with his back turned to her.

“I thought you were betraying me to Enkir,” Maerad said. “I didn’t understand how you didn’t
know.
”

“I would swear on my life that Enkir is not a Hull,” said Cadvan, turning to face her. He shook his head, as if he were trying to clear it. “Maerad, I can’t tell you how difficult this is to believe. Enkir is ambitious and cold, I agree, and I do not love him, and I disagree deeply with much that he has done. But he has been a noble Bard, a man of great learning and great wisdom, and he is the First Bard of the Circle. He has done much in the service of the Light, great deeds of magery, and has spent himself without mercy. How could that be so? How has he concealed his designs and actions from so many Bards? For none of those who sat at that table are fools, or easy to deceive.”

Maerad sat silently. It seemed perfectly obvious that Enkir was cruel and eaten up with malice. He did not seem noble to her.

“Perhaps the other Bards are like him,” she said at last. Cadvan glanced at her swiftly, but did not demur.

They sat together in gloomy cogitation until the door unlatched, making Maerad jump. Saliman entered, and behind him a slim, handsome boy bearing a jug of ale. Maerad thought at first it was one of Nelac’s students, then she realized it was Hem.

Saliman looked from Maerad to Cadvan, absorbing the atmosphere in the room. “What’s been happening here?” he asked. Neither of them would answer him, and he raised his eyebrows. “Well, in any case, allow me to present Cai of Pellinor, who still insists on being called Hem.”

“Hello, Hem.” Despite herself, Maerad smiled; Hem bore himself with an awkward mixture of pride and shyness. His hair had been washed and cut short and, free of the dirt, was appreciably lighter than it had been. He was dressed smartly in the style of Norloch: blue breeches made of heavy silk, a long-sleeved crimson tunic of the same fine wool as Maerad’s dress, and soft black leather boots. Self-consciously he crossed the room and put the jug of ale on the sideboard. “You look very nice,” Maerad said. Hem nodded, on the verge of blushing, and sat down next to her.

“Saliman made me have a bath,” he said. “I didn’t mind
that
much.”

“It’s a complete transformation,” said Cadvan, inspecting him. “Now indeed you look like a noble son of the House of Karn.” Hem went scarlet.

Saliman poured four glasses. He looked at Maerad and Cadvan curiously as he handed them the ale, but did not inquire. “The least you can do is congratulate me on my magery,” he said, sitting down.

“I congratulate you,” said Cadvan ironically. He took a long drink of ale, and a silence fell on the company.

“Where’s Nelac? He’s late. We need him here,” Cadvan burst out suddenly. He shook his head again, still disbelieving. “Saliman, it’s much worse than we thought. Darkness fills the high seat of power, the White Flame itself. What will we do now?”

Maerad realized that it was late; the Council had taken more than three hours, and they had sat talking in Nelac’s rooms while the dusk deepened. Cadvan had told Saliman of Maerad’s vision, and although he had looked saddened, he did not seem surprised. “Cadvan, I have long told you that the Light is rotten in the north,” he said.

“But at the very heart of the flame?” said Cadvan.

“Aye, it is bad,” answered Saliman. “I had hoped it was not that bad. But it does not amaze me. Such are these times. Think of Maerad’s dream.”

Cadvan and Saliman were getting more and more uneasy at Nelac’s absence, and Maerad was beginning to feel frightened. Something was happening, she could feel it. She watched the shadows lengthening outside with a growing sense of doom.

“Enkir will be forced to move quickly now,” said Saliman decidedly. “And in that I think lies hope. What must have gone through his head when you announced her, Cadvan? ‘Here is Maerad of Pellinor!’ She could pull down the whole castle. Do you think he has made plans for this? You saw, Maerad, how close he came to exposing himself in the Council. And Enkir is, I think, one who thinks through his plans carefully in advance, down to the last detail. He had dismissed Maerad. And
she
is the One! I think he is thrown. He’ll do something imprudent.”

“Perhaps,” said Maerad. “But I think he has his own spies. He might not have been so wrong-footed as you think.”

“You’re thinking of Helgar?” said Cadvan. He was striding impatiently up and down the room. “Yes, I think it will not do to underestimate him. The Dark seems two steps ahead of us, always, though I think our argument that Maerad is the One took him totally by surprise. The Dark is blinded in many ways by its own nature; there are many things it doesn’t understand. Enkir would not think a woman could have that power. And he doesn’t know, or at least I don’t think he knows, that we have found Hem. But I agree, Saliman. He will move quickly now. My guess is that he will try to get rid of us
now,
before we can do anything. We have to get out of Norloch. All of us.”

“Where will we go?” Hem uncurled himself, and stared belligerently at Saliman and Cadvan.

Cadvan paused. “I think we should not flee together,” he said. “We’ll be pursued. We’ll have to split up.”

For a second Hem looked devastated, but he visibly collected himself with an effort of will, affecting a tough carelessness.
He doesn’t wish to seem like a child,
Maerad thought, with a stab of compassion.
But he is.
She put her arm around him and pulled him close.

“I think Cadvan’s right,” she said softly. “But it’s hard.”

“The best thing,” said Cadvan carefully, “would be for Saliman to take Hem south, and for me to go north with Maerad. For I think we must go north, and I think Maerad still needs my guidance. Yes, Maerad?” He looked across at her, a painful doubt in his eyes. Maerad met his gaze steadily. She hesitated for a long second, and then nodded slowly. She felt his surge of relief wash through her own body, and she was overwhelmed by a sudden emotion she couldn’t name.

Next to her, Hem was struggling with his delight at the thought of going south with Saliman and his grief at having to part from Maerad. Maerad gradually became aware of him and looked hard into his face. Despite all Hem’s willpower, a tear trickled down his cheek.

“Hey, be brave, little brother,” she whispered. “We’ll meet again. I know we will. And just think: you’ll get to see the Falls of Lamar before I do!”

Hem didn’t trust himself to speak, and swallowed hard, nodding.

Saliman looked at Hem with a deep empathy. “If Maerad says you will meet again, I think you will,” he said. “And perhaps, yes, the Falls of Lamar will be some compensation, though no beauty can assuage the loss of those you love.” Hem blinked and then sat up a little straighter. “Cadvan is right,” Saliman added. “But first we have to get out of Norloch. I somehow think that will not be easy.”

“We should pack, then,” said Maerad suddenly. She looked down at her robes. “And I can’t go like this.”

“Yes,” said Cadvan. “As quickly as we can.”

It was a relief to have something to do, instead of just talking. In fifteen minutes they were all downstairs again, dressed in traveling clothes, Hem with a new pack like Maerad’s, which Saliman had given him earlier that day. They threw their bags in the corner, and then sat down again to their tense vigil.

It was only ten minutes later, although it felt like an hour, when the door was flung open, and Nelac burst in.

“At last!” said Cadvan, turning quickly. “Nelac, we have news. . . .”

Nelac looked swiftly around the room. “Good, you’re all here,” he said. “I think I know your news, Cadvan. Do I guess right, Maerad? You saw the Darkness in the Flame, even as it perceived you.”

Maerad stared at him in amazement. This was a Nelac she hadn’t seen: all signs of age seemed to have dropped from him, and he spoke with a sure authority. “We have very little time,” he said hurriedly. “The Circle is broken, and I do not know what will happen. I have spoken to Amdrith, the Captain of the City, and I think that not all will be loyal to Enkir, should he call out the Guard. That will buy us some time. But not much.”

“What happened?” asked Cadvan, his face grim.

“Enkir has accused me of treachery,” said Nelac. “And all those who voted against him in the Council. He desired to imprison us all. The Circle would not agree to that. But he was only outvoted by one, and my heart misgives me, Cadvan; how deep does this darkness go? Enkir is in the tower in a black rage, and he drives the other Bards by fear and poisonous suspicion. You four must leave Norloch now, while there is still time.” His eyes rested on the bags heaped in the corner and he nodded. “I see you already understand that.”

“We were waiting for you,” said Cadvan. “All is in readiness.” He stopped his pacing. “You know that Enkir was at the sack of Pellinor?” Nelac glanced at Maerad in surprise.

“No,” he said. “But I see already that Enkir is a monstrous traitor to all the Knowing of the Light. No, he’s not a Hull,” he said, putting up his hand as Maerad opened her mouth to question him. “He is too proud to enslave himself like that. Nor is he the Nameless himself, in the guise of Bard,” he said, fending off another question. “He seeks rather to use the Dark to his own ends, and to make himself the seat of absolute power. He concealed himself in the very heart of the Light, following his recreant stratagems. I am sick that I did not see it.” Nelac looked as if he were about to spit with contempt. “But in his arrogance he has forgotten the might of the Dark, and it has eaten him up, even as he thought he directed its ways. Cunning fool!”

Nelac glimmered with a light that threw shadows around the darkened room. But this was not the serene starlight Maerad had seen before: it flickered with rage.

“But come, we have no time to discuss treachery,” said Nelac. “We must give thought of where you are to go.”

“We have already,” said Maerad. “Cadvan and I are going north, and Saliman will take Hem south. It seemed better so.”

Nelac looked over her head into an unseen distance. “Yes, you are to go north, if we read the signs aright,” he said at last. “That at least is clear. And you must find the Treesong. I do not know how. The Light will guide you. But your way is dark, and I cannot see far.”

Nelac told them then that he had already arranged passage for Maerad and Cadvan on a fishing boat, which would leave as soon as they reached the quay. “It’s owned by a fisherman, Owan, an old friend of mine from Thorold who petitioned me today,” he said. “He was waiting in the hall when I came home. It’s a lucky chance; I’d trust him with my life. I thought to send you all with him, but I see it is better that Hem and Maerad do not travel the same way. For I think Hem is as crucial to the Light as Maerad is, although what he must do is beyond my sight.”

“What about Darsor and Imi?” asked Maerad.

“I have thought of that,” said Cadvan. “Saliman and Hem must take them; they can send them on to Gent when they find other mounts. Darsor will bear my friend, if I ask him.”

“But how are we to get out?” said Saliman. “Even on the best horse in all Annar, which I know Darsor is, it will be a challenge if the gates are held against us!”

“It is somewhat easier for you, my friend. Enkir is seeking Cadvan and Maerad, not Saliman, or not as far as I know,” said Nelac. He took a ring off his finger and gave it to Saliman. It bore the seal of the White Flame. “The gates will not be held against this sign. And remember that Enkir doesn’t know about Hem; it was lucky we thought not to discuss him at the Council. Tell them you bear urgent messages for the Suderain from the Circle. The Tall Gate in the Ninth Circle will be shut; it’s already after dark. You’ll have to leave by the messenger’s portal.”

“Shall we go, then?” said Saliman. Hem took a deep breath and stood up.

“Yes, you should leave now,” said Nelac. “I don’t know how long it will be before all the gates are sealed.”

Saliman picked up his pack, signaling Hem to do the same, and wordlessly the five went to the stables. Darsor snorted in greeting when he saw Cadvan, who stroked him and murmured in his ear as he hastily saddled him. Maerad kissed Imi on her nose and put on her tackle. Then she braced herself for parting.

She kissed Saliman on both cheeks. He looked gravely into her eyes. “The best of luck go with thee,” he said. “You are a brave woman. May the Light shine on you, Maerad of Pellinor!”

She blushed at the unexpected compliment. She turned then to Hem and crushed him to her breast. When would she see him again?