The Waterless Sea (29 page)

‘
Heben?
What has any of this to do with Heben?' cried Calwyn. ‘I didn' t think the Lord of the Black Palace would take an interest in such things!'

Darrow' s grey-green eyes were narrow with anger. He said, ‘I didn' t plan to become Lord of the Black Palace, and I may not wear the Ring for long. But while I wear it, I can do some good here. Isn' t that what we talked about on Ravamey, doing good? Perhaps I can bring peace in this troubled time, and not only to the Black Palace.'

‘Isn' t that what Samis said?' flashed Calwyn. ‘That he would bring peace and prosperity to all Tremaris?'

Darrow spread his hands in a gesture Calwyn hadn' t seen him use before, a Merithuran gesture, and she had a sudden strong sense of the distance that lay between them. ‘What would you have me do, Calwyn? Without power, we can do nothing, neither good nor evil.Yet you would have me give up power, lest I misuse it.'

‘I don' t think you' re going to misuse it,' faltered Calwyn. Wasn' t that exactly what she feared?Who was being mistrustful now? She pressed Halasaa' s thin, cool hand to her forehead.
Halasaa, come back, help me!

For a few moments Darrow was silent, watching them. Then he said, ‘Calwyn. Let me explain.' His voice was hesitant, searching for words. ‘For the first time in my life, I do not feel like an imposter. As a pupil here, as Samis' s friend, even after Spareth, I have never felt that I have earned what has been given to me. Even with you –' He broke off, and looked away. ‘But, here, as the wearer of the Ring – I am sure of myself. I know what must be done, and I know how to do it. You may think that I have no more right to wear the Ring of Lyonssar than Samis did. Perhaps that' s true. But this is a gift that will never come again. I must seize it, I must make the best use of it that I can.'

Darrow held out his hand to her, the hand that bore the square red ring. ‘Come up to the roof,' he said, and there was a new note in his voice, an imperious tone that expected to be obeyed. Calwyn heard it with a pang of misgiving, but she followed him out of the room.

Neither of them noticed as a small figure detached itself from the shadows outside Halasaa' s door, and scurried silently after them.

They climbed endless shadowed stairs and ramps, moving ever upward, toward the heat. In some places, the lamps had gone out, and they moved in darkness. Then Darrow would reach back and seize Calwyn' s hand, making her heart lurch. His hand was firm and warm as he led her confidently onward, never missing a step, and she wondered how many times he had come this way before.

At last they emerged onto the rooftop, blinking in the piercing glare of morning. Darrow led Calwyn through a wilderness of pipes, vents and rickety shacks, birds' nests and discarded rubbish to the edge of the roof. ‘This is where I used to come, when I was a pupil here, to look at the stars.'

Calwyn stood close to the black marble wall; it was already too hot to touch. She remembered how she used to climb the western tower of the Dwellings of Antaris, to gaze out over the forests. How long ago that seemed . . . Even in the blazing heat, she was aware of the warmth of Darrow' s arm, close to hers. The distance between them seemed less out here, in the clean air and the iron-bright light. From somewhere among the forest of vents and air-ducts came a high-pitched, eerie sound, as the wind whistled across one of the pipes.

Far off across the flat red sand of the Dish of Hathara, Darrow pointed to a dense black line, like a column of ants, that steadily advanced toward the Palace.

‘I wish we had the looking-tube!' cried Calwyn.

‘We don' t need a looking-tube,' said Darrow. ‘The Army is coming.' He stared out across the plain, his eyes narrowed against the sun. ‘I left the way open. They will all come: the soldiers, the courtiers, the rebels, the Clans. They will follow our tracks. The peoples of Merithuros are accustomed to a centre, to one ruler, to being ruled from one place. They will try to reconstruct the Palace of Cobwebs here, even those who fought to tear it down. That is a thing that can' t be done. The Black Palace was not built as a place for people to dwell. The sorcerers live in it as termites live in a fallen tree, or mice in a barn. Those who call this place the sorcerers' nest speak more truth than they know.'

‘What is it for, if not for people to live in?'

Darrow looked at her. ‘Samis discovered the secret of this place. We are the only ones who ever learned it.' He paused, staring hard at Calwyn. In a low voice he said, ‘It is a war-engine.' Calwyn stared at him uncertainly. ‘A war-engine like Trout used to build? For throwing bolts, or hurling balls of fire?'

‘Not quite.' Darrow hesitated. ‘It is more like an armoured cart, or a shielded boat. Do you remember, I once told you of the war-boats of Gellan?'

‘With great speed and hulls of bronze, that no weapon can penetrate. Yes, I remember – But this is a building! It can' t move.'

‘Yes, it can.' Darrow glanced around, though there was no one in sight but a fierce-eyed eagle, who gave one harsh cry, and launched itself over the edge of the roof, to soar across the desert.

‘I don' t understand,' said Calwyn helplessly.

Darrow swung around, pointing to the black polished pipes of various heights and widths that thrust above the jumble of shacks and piles of debris. ‘Do you see these pipes? They are the key to it, to the machine. They are blocked now, all but the Pipe of Lyonssar, but if they were to be unblocked, the winds would blow across them. It would make a chantment of iron.'

‘Like Heben' s flute?' Calwyn stared up in awe at the towering pipes.

Darrow grimaced a little at the mention of Heben' s name. ‘Yes, like a flute. Exactly like a flute. Each pipe holds a different note, but if they all sing together, it would be a complete song of chantment. And that chantment would be powerful enough to move this entire Palace across the sands.'

‘And Samis discovered this?'

A shadow crossed Darrow' s face. ‘Yes. The Black Palace is infused with strong magic, dark magic. It is not a happy place. It is a fortress, a war machine, designed to crush and to kill. No wonder those who live here are so dark of spirit.'

Calwyn shivered. ‘Who made it, Darrow? The Ancient Ones, who built Spareth?'

‘I believe so. But perhaps they were wiser than we think, Calwyn. Perhaps they abandoned it here, in the middle of the wilderness of Hathara, so it could never be used again for any destructive purpose.'

‘They would have done better to destroy it completely,' said Calwyn with a shudder. She tried to imagine the vast bulk of the Black Palace advancing across the plain of Kalysons, flattening crops and mills, destroying everything and everyone in its path.

Darrow gave the half-smile she knew so well. ‘It would not be an easy object to destroy. And in a strange way, it has its own beauty.'

‘Perhaps,' said Calwyn sceptically. Even in the sun' s heat, she shivered. ‘How did the sorcerers come to live here?'

‘Lyonssar himself brought other chanters here, at the time of the great persecutions. That was long ago, longer than anyone can say. The sorcerers struck a bargain with the Emperors. They would keep the Palace of Cobwebs intact, if they were left alone, and safe, here in Hathara.'

‘All alone,' said Calwyn slowly.

‘As are your priestesses, in Antaris.' Darrow shot her a sideways look. ‘The brothers of the Black Palace have kept their chantments safe here for generations, just as the sisters of Antaris have done behind theirWall of Ice.'

‘We must break down all these walls!' cried Calwyn impatiently. ‘The chanters of Tremaris must come out of hiding!'

Darrow nodded absently, but he didn' t seem to be listening; he frowned toward the north. The black line was still there, moving imperceptibly closer.

Calwyn took a breath. ‘When will they arrive, Darrow?'

‘By sunset, perhaps. Not long.'

Behind them, a small, ragged figure slipped unseen from behind a pillar and darted away, down into the shadowy interior of the Palace.

Calwyn and Darrow stood side by side and watched as the creeping tide of the Imperial Army crawled nearer and nearer. Unglimpsed and unsuspected, some remnants of the Imperial Court, Keela' s faction, followed in their wake.

Darrow turned to Calwyn. ‘I must ask you,' he said, in a strange, strangled voice. ‘What are your feelings for that boy?'

Calwyn' s mind was a blank. ‘What boy?'

‘Heben.'

‘Oh, by the Goddess!' cried Calwyn, stamping her foot in despair, and impulsively, without thinking, she turned her face up to his.

At first she thought he was still angry with her, he kissed her so hard. But then his arms folded around her, and she knew that he wasn' t angry any more. Nor was she; she felt as if she could never be angry again.

After a while, she became aware of a slight tugging on her long plait; the great ruby ring had become caught in her hair. But it was a long time before either of them bothered to untangle it.

seven
The Ruby Ring

T
HE NOON BELLS
clanged out, and the great funnel of the sand-clock turned ponderously. The sorcerers, the rebels and the children gathered at Darrow' s summons. Since his arrival, the normal rules of daily life were suspended; there were no lessons, and the children wandered freely through the Palace, scuffling and skidding along the polished floors, talking about what had happened in hushed, eager tones, and comparing stories. Some spoke of going home. Once or twice Calwyn heard the sound of muffled laughter.

But no one was laughing now. The black-robed sorcerers and the children in their dark tunics all wore the same sober expression, as they flocked to the hall in the heart of the Palace where Darrow had proclaimed his lordship.

Gada and Shada were there, close to Heben, whose serious face had glowed with quiet joy ever since they' d been reunited. Vin was there, wary but defiant, and Haid, looking lost without his
hegesi
. The other children – except Oron, who had not yet been found – sat cross-legged on the floor, whispering. Fenn and the rebels leaned against the walls, hands resting with careful nonchalance on their sword-hilts. They were dressed in their desert gear, and they watched the sorcerers with eyes full of suspicion. The sorcerers stared with equal loathing and mistrust at the rebels, and stood clustered together like a flock of crows, rustling and muttering in their black robes.

Calwyn and Tonno stood apart from the rest, toward the back of the room. Tonno laid his big hand on Calwyn' s shoulder. ‘How is Halasaa?'

‘Worse, I think. He seems to be dreaming, bad dreams. We can' t wake him. Mica' s with him now.'

Tonno nodded his curly head soberly. ‘The sooner we can take him home, the better. Reckon you and me and Mica can manage the voyage back. If we leave in the next day or two, we' ll be home again before the moons turn.'

‘Oh – Tonno –' Calwyn' s eyes shone, and then clouded. She said, ‘You think Darrow will stay here, then?'

‘Reckon he might, lass. This is his place, this is where he belongs. Ever seen him stand so straight?'

Darrow made his way to the foot of the stairs; the crowd parted for him. There was indeed something different about the way he carried himself, an air of quiet authority that no one dared to argue with. Perhaps Tonno was right, and this was where he belonged.
But
I
don' t belong here – anywhere but
here!
Her longing for green trees and blue water was like a physical ache, and the parched and mutilated land seemed to cry out with the same yearning. Calwyn knew that if she remained in Hathara, she would dry up and wither inside just like Halasaa. And yet what had happened on the roof made everything more complicated. Her whole body was singing; she felt as if she' d dived into the sea after a long day' s work. She knew that to tear herself away from Darrow now would be the most difficult thing she had ever done. But Halasaa needed her; he needed her more than Darrow did. . .

The whirl of thoughts exhausted her. She was very tired in any case, and the nights spent sitting by Halasaa' s side had taken their toll. She leaned back against the comforting bulk of Tonno' s body as Darrow mounted partway up the broad stairs. A hush fell over the crowd as his voice rang out, clear and confident.

‘Hear me! For three days, I have worn the Ring of Lyonssar. Many of you have wondered what use I will make of my lordship. I tell you this: I will remake the Black Palace. For many generations, it has been a source of fear and hatred, and that fear and hatred has spread out from Hathara like a cancer, eating at the whole of Merithuros.

‘Some of you believe that the Empire fell when the Palace of Cobwebs fell. It is not so. For the heart of the Empire was never there. It lies here, within these walls. Without the Black Palace, without the secrets and the lies and the abuse of chantment, there could have been no Palace of Cobwebs; no Imperial Court; no Emperor; no Empire. If we are to remake Merithuros, then we must begin here, here and now!'