The Mirror Prince (39 page)
Authors: Violette Malan
Walks under the Moon did have reason to dislike him, however, Max knew. He had all of the memories of his human personae, and many times Cassandra had told him of how she had left her family to become a Warden, of what she hoped to gain for them by that, of her father’s withdrawal and the need to provide for him and for the young child, her sister. Of course, it had meant leaving the child Moon behind with a man half mad with grief. It was obvious that the child had made an idol of the missing sister, longing for her return. Max wondered if Moon was aware that her present behavior most resembled that of a jealous lover. Even now, as they were riding in the dappled light to be found under the great Trees of
Trere’if,
Moon had managed to insinuate her horse between those of Max and Cassandra. Ah, well, he thought, she loved her sister, and resented that even now she did not have her for herself. From what Cassandra had told him over the years about the home she’d left, the child Moon could not have had an easy time of it, even with the privileges that Cassandra’s becoming a Warden would have brought them.
Trere’if,
Moon had managed to insinuate her horse between those of Max and Cassandra. Ah, well, he thought, she loved her sister, and resented that even now she did not have her for herself. From what Cassandra had told him over the years about the home she’d left, the child Moon could not have had an easy time of it, even with the privileges that Cassandra’s becoming a Warden would have brought them.
And knowing the Basilisk, as perhaps few left in the Lands could know him, Max was certain that the Wardens’ families had not actually gained all that much.
He couldn’t blame Moon for distrusting him; he
did
have his own agenda, or his
fara’ip
did. Marrying Cassandra by the code of the Wild Riders—permission or no permission—was the single most selfish thing he had ever done. Once more his fingers lifted to touch the torque. If this was the end of all things, then he’d wanted to bind her to him, and it seemed that the rest of his
fara’ip
had agreed. For the moment he would not examine the reasons for that agreement too closely.
did
have his own agenda, or his
fara’ip
did. Marrying Cassandra by the code of the Wild Riders—permission or no permission—was the single most selfish thing he had ever done. Once more his fingers lifted to touch the torque. If this was the end of all things, then he’d wanted to bind her to him, and it seemed that the rest of his
fara’ip
had agreed. For the moment he would not examine the reasons for that agreement too closely.
“Where go we now?” Moon was whispering to Cassandra, but Max answered her.
“We must find
Trere’if
.”
Trere’if
.”
Moon slowed her horse. “But you said
this
is
Trere’if.
”
this
is
Trere’if.
”
“Not the part we can speak to.” Max stood on his stirrups and tried to get a view through the Trees. They were thicker here, cutting off his line of sight. “
Trere’if
is a who as well as a what and a where. Be warned, he is perhaps the oldest living being in the Lands, and his ways may seem very strange to you.”
Trere’if
is a who as well as a what and a where. Be warned, he is perhaps the oldest living being in the Lands, and his ways may seem very strange to you.”
“How can he be the eldest?” Moon asked. “The Lands were made for Riders.”
“Riders don’t live all that long—a little over a Cycle at the most. Naturals,” Max shrugged, “no one know how long a Natural can live. Each segment of the People thinks itself the oldest and believes that it understands the true nature of the Lands, what lives, what changes, what ages, and what does none of these things. None have all the answers—neither Rider, nor Solitary, nor Natural.”
“And you are the only being that does, I suppose?”
“No, not even I.”
“Max.”
Something in Cassandra’s voice made Max put his hand on his sword hilt before he looked around to her. “Yes?”
“I don’t think we’re going any deeper in. The trees have closed in behind us. We’re trapped.”
“Steady,” Max said. “Wait for it.”
Pathways disappeared, and the clearing shrank until the Cloud Horses began to snort, realizing that they no longer had the space to turn. Only Max, expecting it, was not startled by the sudden appearance of a Green Man. This was a Tree Natural, tall, thick of limb and body, his skin mottled shades of green, brown, and black, resembling nothing so much as the bark of an oak. His fingers and toes were long, tapering to delicate threads, and his hair was made up of mosses and oak leaves, tiny and delicate as if just opening in the spring. Max was only mildly disappointed when he did not recognize this particular member of
Trere’if’s fara’ip
.
Trere’if’s fara’ip
.
“I am Dawntreader,” he told the Treeman, “the Prince Guardian. My mother was Light at the Summit, my father is Blood on the Snow. The Phoenix guides me.”
“
You
are welcome, Prince of Guardians.” The Natural’s voice was a whisper of wind in branches, with a hint of the creaking of boughs. A young one indeed. “Your father warned us of your coming and we have been on the watch. Who are these others? It has been long since Riders had the freedom of
Trere’if
.”
You
are welcome, Prince of Guardians.” The Natural’s voice was a whisper of wind in branches, with a hint of the creaking of boughs. A young one indeed. “Your father warned us of your coming and we have been on the watch. Who are these others? It has been long since Riders had the freedom of
Trere’if
.”
“These are my companions. Where I go, there must they go also.”
The Green Man shook his head, hair rustling. “That is for
Trere’if
to decide. If they would be brought to him, they must be bound.”
Trere’if
to decide. If they would be brought to him, they must be bound.”
“Your hospitality has greatly changed,” Max said, trying to keep the anger from showing in his voice.
“That also is for
Trere’if
to decide, Guardian. If you wish to come to him, your companions must be bound.”
Trere’if
to decide, Guardian. If you wish to come to him, your companions must be bound.”
“Don’t worry, Max,” Cassandra said, laying her hand on his arm. “We won’t be offended, I promise you.” Cassandra turned to the Green Man. “Is it a long journey?”
“By our ways, it is not far,” the Green Man said.
Before he had finished speaking, the wood around them transformed; more than half of the Trees and Bushes disappeared, replaced by Naturals, until they were standing not in a forest glade, but in a crowd of Tree people, though at first there seemed little difference. The Naturals were all like the Green Man, more than half Tree, their skin bark of every texture and color, their hair the same mixture of leaves and branches. There were few smiles among them, Max noticed, though some of the younger ones looked at him with interest and sketched bows in his direction.
The Green People bound Moon’s wrists with no trouble using vines they pulled free from their bodies. They held her gently in their delicate long-fingered hands, treating her with great courtesy, but the strictures on her wrists were tight and sure enough for all that. Cassandra presented more of a problem, for the forest people seemed unwilling to touch any part of her
gra’if
. They let her keep her sword and other weapons, sheathed, but managed to bind her wrists only because she willingly removed her gauntlets. Cassandra caught Max’s eye and raised an eyebrow, lightly shrugging her shoulders. His frown relaxed. Of course, so long as one of them was free, they were all as good as free.
gra’if
. They let her keep her sword and other weapons, sheathed, but managed to bind her wrists only because she willingly removed her gauntlets. Cassandra caught Max’s eye and raised an eyebrow, lightly shrugging her shoulders. His frown relaxed. Of course, so long as one of them was free, they were all as good as free.
Or so he told himself, as the forest formed once again around them.
They hadn’t gone more than another mile or so, following the slow walk of the Green Man, when the trees began to thin again, the sunlight shining strongly through the branches.
“Is it you, Dawntreader?” the voice was the growl of green wood twisting and tearing, the rubbing together of branches, the hint of falling leaves. Cassandra could just make out an enormous shape in the shadows, made larger somehow by the sudden stillness of the air.
“It is,
Trere’if,
and more than glad to see you. When I heard the Basilisk held your Vale, I feared the worst. I cannot say, however, that I think your hospitality much improved since we last met.”
Trere’if,
and more than glad to see you. When I heard the Basilisk held your Vale, I feared the worst. I cannot say, however, that I think your hospitality much improved since we last met.”
“I had heard it said you were captive. I do not know the ones you bring with you. Are you captive, still?” Trees shivered where the voice was coming from, as if something moved toward them. Cassandra wondered how long it had been since
Trere’if
had taken on a form that could speak to Riders.
Trere’if
had taken on a form that could speak to Riders.
“I am not. These are friends and companions.”
“Let them speak for themselves, that I may hear and judge of their spirits.” The Natural of the Wood finally stepped clear of the other Trees. He was smaller, more delicately built, than Cassandra had expected. Slim, slight, his skin pale green, with the faintest, almost imperceptible mottling; silver-gray hair made up of long, thin leaves, fine and flexible. But then she saw that his size, his coloring, even his shape altered between one step and the next, indeed between one breath and the next, as if he were a ghost seen in a light that filtered through leaves blowing in a fitful wind. He was not
a
tree man, but
the
Treeman.
a
tree man, but
the
Treeman.
Cassandra cleared her throat and, lifting her right leg over the saddle horn, slid off her horse to the ground. She took a short step forward and bowed from the waist, as she would have done to her sensei. Her hands were still bound, but that was the least of her worries. It looked as if they were all standing in a pretty forest glade, but she already knew better than to trust what her eyes told her.
“I am Sword of Truth,” she said, her voice sounding soft and hollow in the wood-smelling air. “My mother was Clear of Light and my father Moon upon Water. The Dragon guides me. I was one of the Wardens of the Exile in the Shadowlands, and now I follow the Prince.”
“Well-named thou art, Truthsheart. I hear the Dragon in thy voice, though I see you wear a Phoenix torque.”
Moon stepped forward until she stood elbow to elbow with Cassandra. “I am called Walks Under the Moon,” she said, her voice trembling in the twilight under the trees. “I am the full sister of the Sword of Truth, and the Manticore guides me.”
“I hear thee, Moonwalker. Thy spirit is heavy. May I lighten it for thee?”
Cassandra felt Moon’s barely repressed shudder against her arm. The Lady of Souls had commented on Moon’s spirit as well, she remembered.
“I thank you, but no, Old One,” Moon said.
“At thy wish, then, but I fear that without this lightening thou may’st not bide within the Great Wood.”
“I do not wish to bide here, Old One.” Moon’s polite inclination of her head made her words less harsh.
“So long as this is so, thou may’st be unbound with thy sister.” More of the long-fingered, pointy-nosed people came gliding out of the trees to stroke their bonds until they loosened.
The Natural of the Wood turned its head to Max. “I see that your spirit is also heavy, Dawntreader. Would you be lightened?”
“I am surprised by my reception,
Trere’if.
Are we not welcome here?”
Trere’if.
Are we not welcome here?”
“You are welcome, Guardian Prince. But none but the Wild Riders may enter here, or any other Wood, without hindrance and explanation. Do you not know that now and for many turns past, the one we fought, the Basilisk Prince, has drained Lakes and cut down Woods, in his ignorance turning the Cycle faster?”
Max’s thoughts spun. If the actions of the Basilisk were speeding up the Cycle, that could explain why the Talismans weren’t ready. There might be a High Prince after all, if only he could buy more time. A knot of tension in the back of his neck that he hadn’t been aware of loosened.
“I have been in Exile, Elder Brother. There is much I do not know.”
“Then you must marvel to see the People gathered here,” the Old One continued. “So many, all in
Trere’if?
They have come from long distances throughout the Lands, fled from their own places before the axes could come. Those who could. Ah,” he turned as Moon made a sound in her throat, “thou did’st not know that this was possible? Many do not remember the lessons of the Great War, when my people fought at the side of the Guardian against the would-be prince.” He turned back to Max. “Many among my people regret the day they joined you, Guardian, thinking that their ills began at that time, or that present ills come as a consequence of that conflict, saying that we should not have involved ourselves in the affairs of Riders.”
Trere’if?
They have come from long distances throughout the Lands, fled from their own places before the axes could come. Those who could. Ah,” he turned as Moon made a sound in her throat, “thou did’st not know that this was possible? Many do not remember the lessons of the Great War, when my people fought at the side of the Guardian against the would-be prince.” He turned back to Max. “Many among my people regret the day they joined you, Guardian, thinking that their ills began at that time, or that present ills come as a consequence of that conflict, saying that we should not have involved ourselves in the affairs of Riders.”
“Are you among those?”
“What affects the Talismans affects us all, Dawntreader. That is as true now as it was when first I gave you my aid. But you must know, that since he has come to power, the Basilisk has turned many of my kind against your people. Few will now help you willingly—even you who are Guardian for us all—and there has been talk that we should rid the Lands of Riders once and for all.”
“An action, and indeed an attitude, that will persuade many that the Basilisk’s actions against you are justified,” Cassandra observed as neutrally as she could.
“As always, Daughter of Dragons, thou speak’st truly, and thy words are as a sword.”
“I will be guided by you in this as in other things.” Max bowed, spreading his arms wide. “It is not our intention to intrude on your spaces for long.”
“It is well. Your father awaits you.”
The Natural’s words died away into a silence so still that for a moment Cassandra thought she had once again lost the ability to process sound, as she had when standing next to the Tarn of Souls. Then she realized that she could hear her heartbeat, her breath as she drew it in.
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