“Never forget you are a creature of free will. Free will is everything. You may choose to abandon your mission. Choice, my child, is the word. If you carry that message against your will, then the mission has already failed. Do you understand?”
Karigan nodded. She had chosen to carry the message. Even F’ryan Coblebay had given her the choice. To believe she had been forced against her will to carry it was to admit defeat before the mission had even begun.
PROFESSOR BERRY’S LIBRARY
Miss Bunchberry showed Karigan to her father’s library so that she might amuse herself in a restful way before supper. The shelves along each wall were filled from floor to ceiling with books, their spines dyed in bright yellows and reds, deep blues and greens. Older tomes covered in plain, worn leather stood out amidst the color. Embossed titles in gold and silver gleamed on the bindings in the remnant shreds of daylight.
If Karigan were more of a scholar, she’d feel as if she had stumbled upon a veritable wonderland. The collection was greater than even Dean Geyer’s.
Thought of the dean made her frown.
A bay window looked out into the formal gardens below where a bronze statue of the fabled Marin the Gardener, in her weathered, elderly visage, watched over the grounds. Sparrows and chickadees darted to and fro, feeding on seed left on the statue’s outstretched hand. The popularity of Marin was greatest along the seacoast where it was said she had once inhabited an island in the Northern Sea Archipelago. Some island cultures deified her as the Mother of all Nature, while those inland tended to think of her as more of a sea-witch who brought good luck to the gardener, and kept a limited area in balance with itself. A winter for every summer, the stories went.
Her presence in gardens was supposed to bring a bountiful harvest of foodstuffs, and to promote the growth of colorful and glorious flowers. Lovage, delphinium, comfrey, and others grew beneath her beneficent gaze. Violets and bluets bloomed about her feet. In an adjacent plot, a vegetable garden was laid out in neat rows, tender shoots seeking the sun, and leaves unfurling over tantalizing secrets just beginning to take shape beneath the soil.
A brass telescope mounted on a tripod looked out through the bay window toward the sky. An expensive object to possess, even for someone as wealthy as Karigan’s father. The ground glass alone was probably equivalent to two barges of his finest silks.
A fire crackled in a snug hearth, casting a warm glow over the room. The library was a very homey place in all.
A collection of objects displayed on a mahogany table drew her to the center of the room. A navigator’s astrolabe stood next to the pitted skull of some unknown creature. A beautiful harp set with emeralds, sapphires, garnets, rubies, tourmaline, and diamonds glistened in the firelight. There were many things that weren’t set in any particular order: a whale’s tooth with fine scrimshaw etchings of a sailor and a fair lady, a hunk of melted, glassy rock of unknown origins, a rusted dagger with a polished pearl handle, a gold coin indented with tooth marks . . . endless things to entertain a curious mind.
A miniature ship encapsulated in a bottle fascinated Karigan. It rocked in a frothy sea, square-rigged sails billowing, seemingly in a breeze. Tiny figures moved about on deck or climbed the rigging. A light fog moved in on the ship, and moved out. The waters calmed some, and the sails slackened.
She was tempted to uncork the bottle to see if the sea would pour out. She suppressed the impulse, but not before another caused her to grab the bottle and shake it. The “sky” darkened; foamy waves lashed the deck, and the ship pitched and careened. Rain fell in sheets. Ant-sized sailors scrambled for handholds, and she imagined she could hear their cries above the crashing of the sea. Drop the aft riggin’, boys, an’ watch the top’sle, she blows down! the bosun cried. Then, Man overboard!
The sailors staggered and crawled astern, groping from handhold to handhold, doing all they could to keep from being washed overboard themselves, but by the time they reached the poop deck, their companion had vanished beneath the roiling waters.
Karigan hastily replaced the bottle and stepped back repelled, trying to reassure herself that the ship’s lifelike qualities had all been the effect of some illusion or magic, and that the tiny figures on board had never been in peril.
In time, the tempest subsided and the seas calmed. The crew dropped anchor and set about making repairs to sails and rigging. Karigan heaved an unintended sigh of relief.
Next she picked up a clear, round crystal. Dazzling silver rays flickered to life from within, and spread warmth through her aching muscles more effectively than the bath had. She fancied it was a captured moonbeam such as children chased, as she had once chased, on silver moon nights. She never heard of anyone ever capturing one. It was said that only Eletians were quick enough, but no one knew if the fair race that once inhabited the Elt Wood still existed.
Karigan did not believe moonbeams could be captured, but she could not explain how light flowed from the crystal. She held onto it for a time, allowing the heat to soothe her.
The lap harp drew her attention next. It was as old as anything she had seen in the museums in Selium, and ornate enough to satisfy any royal. She strummed the gold strings, and was stunned by its true tones and human voice. Single strings produced perfectly pitched individual voices; combined strings sang in unearthly harmonies. It was like having the Selium Chorale right in the room with her.
I bet Estral would like this.
Karigan wasn’t proficient at playing any instrument, but no matter which string she struck, the harp made her sound like a master. The beauty of it kept her playing at great length. Every object in the room resonated around her. The light in the crystal brightened, and the little sailors sat or stood in an attitude of listening, their ship becalmed in a mirrorlike sea. Karigan shivered and detached herself from the instrument. The whole room seemed to dim and sag in disappointment.
The shadows grew long outside, and as dusk fell and darkened into night, pinpoints of starlight dotted the sky. The glow of the fire, which never needed stoking, and the crystal kept the library light and cheery. There were other objects on the table, but Karigan refrained from touching another. Everything was strange.
Instead, she turned her attention to the shelves. Despite the absence of Professor Berry, there wasn’t a speck of dust on the books. Obviously they were still treasured and well cared for. She ran her forefinger along the spines of the books; they smelled faintly of leather and ink, but without a hint of mustiness. There were books covering all angles of Sacoridian history from The Foundation of the Sacor Clans to The House of Hillander: A Guide to Practical Monarchy in Our Times.
A large section was devoted to Rhovanny. One intriguing book was titled The Architecture of the Royal House of Rhove Illustrated. Karigan’s father had once been to the castle in Randann and had described to her the wonders of the king’s house. In the book, she found handpainted illustrations of some of the details he had described, such as the roof of the castle which reflected light like the corona of the sun. In the old days, the effects revealed the sun goddess’ favor of the royal family to the common folk. The book disclosed the roof to be tiled by thousands of mirrors.
Some tomes were so old that the words were hand-inked in a script Karigan found agonizing, or impossible, to decipher. Many were in strange languages, or ancient versions of modern languages.
One such book was titled Translations from Ancient Eltish. Eltish was, or had once been, the language of the Eletians. She thumbed through the volume. The lettering, printed in fair Eletian characters, shimmered in the light of the crystal. She pronounced words which had been translated phonetically into the Common, and the harp hummed with each syllable she spoke. She hastily closed the book and shelved it.
Undaunted, Karigan climbed a ladder which rolled along the stacks on runners. She found books on the arts and sciences. One row was devoted to the arcane arts. When she opened one of the books, she found only blank pages. No wonder magic was arcane!
/> The rest of the books on the shelves seemed rather dull. Several dealt with etiquette, and she doubted they had belonged to Professor Berry’s original collection.
She left the stacks and paced around. She stretched taut muscles as she walked. Too many days in the saddle, and too many nights on the ground. The floor creaked beneath her feet, and she wondered when Miss Bunchberry would return for her.
She paused when the telescope caught her eye again. It gleamed more gold than brass in the flickering firelight, and aroused her curiosity. It was a rare opportunity for her to look at the stars. At school, the star masters hoarded the looking pieces, allowing only a special few to gaze through. She bent over and peered through the eyepiece.
Stars streaked across the lens as she adjusted the scope’s position and focus. She located the Sword of Sevelon, a constellation of seven stars in the shape of a cross like a sword, and nearly as easy to find as the Ladle. The scope’s range was amazing. Only the scopes in Selium’s observatory compared in distance and clarity.
Legend had it that a great hero by the name of Sevelon had once served the god and goddess by attending to their affairs on earth, and dispensed justice as the immortals saw fit. In popular legend, Sevelon often manipulated events so they benefited her fellow mortals, and kept the immortals humble. After many lifetimes of good work, Aeryc and Aeryon rewarded Sevelon by allowing her to ascend the crystal staircase to the heavens to dwell with the immortals among the stars.
When she reached the final landing, she cast her sword aside for all time, and it could now be seen still tumbling across the night sky. It was dominant in spring, the sword tipped up in the “salute” position, and as the seasons progressed into early winter, the sword spiraled until the tip was planted downward in the “warrior at rest” position. The sword then left the skies, only to emerge large and brilliant again the following spring.
Interestingly, Sacoridian legend depicted Sevelon as female, while Rhovan legend characterized her as male, despite the fact that a female statue of Sevelon stood in the great hall of the king in Randann. Whether male or female, Sevelon’s exploits served as stories with morals told to the children of both countries. Sevelon was depicted as knightly, courageous, and good, while the god and goddess were depicted as capricious, using humanity to suit their own whims. Karigan had often wondered if Sevelon was as pure as the stories made her out to be.
Just as she thought to turn the telescope elsewhere, the stars swam in her eyes. Try as she might, she couldn’t focus or blink her eyes clear. A scene began to unfold, and though she tried, she could not pull away from the eyepiece.
Evergreens wheeled, merged, and spun like a kaleidoscope in the eyepiece. Fragments of an image fell into place and created a picture of the all too familiar woods of the Green Cloak and the desolate stretches of the North Road. A red squirrel paused in the road, then scurried across and into the undergrowth and shadows of the woods. A raven alighted at the top of a spruce, the bough bending under its weight. It squawked once and flapped its wings, watchful. All else was still.
Although Karigan couldn’t place the section of road, it looked familiar. But then, there wasn’t much to distinguish one part of the endless stretch of the Green Cloak and the monotonous miles of curving road from another.
Movement caught the corner of her eye, and the telescope obligingly zoomed in at a dizzying rate only to reveal herself. She watched herself lead The Horse away from F’ryan Coblebay’s body. The Horse plodded dispiritedly behind her, his head bowed, while she walked on seemingly deep in thought.
I remember this.
As they rounded a curve in the road, something behind them caught The Horse’s attention. The Karigan within the vision looked behind, too, just as she had done that day, but saw nothing. The Karigan who observed through the telescope, however, saw a shadowy figure following behind, bent and in green, with two arrows protruding from his back.
Before she had time to consider it, the vision dissolved as if flushed with water, only to reveal another. Bright sunlight washed the new scene, but she couldn’t determine anything else about the setting. The soldiers Sarge and Thursgad had their backs to her and obscured her view. The telescope moved in slowly, allowing her to peer over their shoulders.
Captain Immerez sat on the ground soaked in blood which gushed from his wrist. His severed hand lay on the bloodied ground, stark white, and with the fingers still curled around the handle of his whip.
Revolted, Karigan tried to jerk away from the eyepiece, but she was held fast.
I will kill that Greenie. Immerez’s whisper came breathy and close into her ear.
Like the turning of a page, the scene changed. Darkness flooded Karigan’s eyes like puddles of black ink. Then Immerez’s face appeared, a glowing orb, his features chiseled by shadows and flickering light, as from a candle or fire. He moved his face close to hers, rotating his head sideways to gaze at her with his one eye. The shadows shifted across his features and darkened half his face. He smiled.
A sticky wetness dripped into her eyes and Immerez turned into a luminescent blur. She blinked rapidly and the contours of his face sharpened. He pulled back and was surrounded again by the blackness. He thrust his handless stump in front of her face, the wrist now equipped with a metal hook. He turned it carefully and slowly so she might see it from all angles. It gleamed in the unknown light source.
Immerez then pressed the hook into the flesh just below her eye. She gasped at the sharp, cold pain.
Well met, Greenie, he said.
Pain ripped just below her eye. She made a strangled noise of terror, wanting to scream, but her voice was muffled and it was difficult to breathe. She wanted to paw at her cheek, but as if her hands were bound, she was unable to move them. Her breath rasped raggedly and quickly in her ears. The pain . . .
Then Immerez’s face folded in on itself, and the pain ceased.
The next scene blossomed sky blue, with slow moving clouds trailing along in a chill spring breeze. Karigan stood amidst the green of the practice field at Selium. It was pocked with worn, dirt practice rings. A crowd thronged around her. She held the point of her wooden practice sword at the back of Timas Mirwell’s neck as he lay prone on the ground before her.
You are dead, she said.
Timas spat dirt. The roar of the onlookers subsided to painful silence. G’ladheon, he said, that was dirty swordplay—against the rules! He climbed to his feet wiping dirt and spittle from his mouth. He was a small young man and had to look up at her.
I dunno, Timas, an onlooker said. Whether it was against the rules or not, she got kill point. There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd.
Karigan, the watcher, struggled to release herself from the eyepiece, but still she could not move. Must I relive this? As if in answer, the scene continued uninterrupted.
It wasn’t fair! Timas cried.
You just haven’t learned that kind of swordplay yet, said someone else, and many in the crowd laughed. At the top of your class indeed.
Timas sputtered in anger. Karigan flashed a grin at her audience and dipped into a low, self-mocking bow. Timas sprang upon her unguarded back and swatted the wooden sword across her shoulders. Stunned, she fell to her hands and knees. Sharp pain flared across her back. The crowd watched in silence, unable to react.
What’s happening here?
The crowd gave way to a stocky man with steel gray hair. Arms Master Rendle grabbed Timas around the chest and pressed on his wrist to force him to drop the practice sword. He let go only after Timas stopped struggling and kicking.
Then he clasped Karigan’s hand and hauled her to her feet. You all right? he asked gruffly.
Karigan watched the rest, how Master Rendle humiliated Timas for his unwarranted attack by assigning him a month of drudge chores; how the arms master remarked on her abilities with a sword and offered to take her on as a private student. Yes, it was all familiar to her, but what she hadn’t seen before, what she hadn’t noticed,
was Timas Mirwell watching from a distance as she and the arms master conversed, his expression one of unadulterated hatred.
Karigan shivered. Timas had gotten his revenge by taking his case to his relatives of status who lived in the city who, in turn, took his case to the dean and the trustees. Karigan had initiated the fight. She was the one to blame.
The scene faded out, Rendle talking to her softly, and Timas’ glare radiating across the practice field to her like a flare of pure hate.
Karigan fought to pull away from the terrible visions, but the telescope wasn’t done with her yet.
The brightness of day darkened to night. Little could be seen except a rider, cloaked and hooded in gray, mounted on a shadowy horse. She felt unexplained attraction, coupled with fear, toward the rider. She was drawn inexorably closer to him. He twisted toward her. Though she couldn’t see his features beneath his hood, she felt his cold gaze as if he could see her where she stood in the library. Icy daggers of fear pierced her heart.
Who are you? he demanded. Who watches?
She felt unseen eyes search for her, and felt his smile. The mirror goes both ways, he said.
Karigan’s mind screamed in fear.
The telescope, or maybe it was her own will this time, wrenched her out of that scene. But no sooner was she out than she was plunged into another. A tall man with almond-shaped brown eyes gazed at her sadly. She couldn’t make out his surroundings, but she had an impression of a room of stone walls like a keep or a prison.
Kari, the man said, I need you. I need you here. Please don’t accept that mission. It’s dangerous and I can’t bear the thought of losing you.
This man needed her? Who was he that he should speak to her so? She tried to call out to him, to reach for him, but she could not move or speak. What mission? she wanted to ask. What danger?
His image shimmered, then vanished, and she felt inexplicably bereft and alone. Stars filled the eyepiece once again. Released from the spell of the telescope, Karigan fell to her knees weak and breathless, her whole body shaking and drenched with sweat, her head throbbing.