“I have no relish for feeling myself a pawn in his mighty chess-game,” said von Bek.
“Nor I.” I shrugged. “Though you would think I’d grow used to it. I still believe that individual will can achieve at least as much as all these alliances of men and gods Sepiriz speaks of. It has occurred to me more than once that they have become so engrossed in their game, in their cosmic politics, that they have lost sight of any original goal.”
“You have little respect for gods and demigods, then,” said Alisaard with a quick movement of her fingers to her face, as if she had forgotten she wore her visor beneath her cowl. “I must admit we do not think much of such creatures in Gheestenheem. Too often what we hear of them sounds like the activities of little boys at play!”
“Sadly,” said von Bek, “those little boys care more for power than most of us. And when they achieve it, they can destroy all those of us who don’t wish to join in their games.”
Alverid of Prucca pushed his cloak away from his shoulders. He was more taciturn than most of the others. His principality was in the far west, where the people had a reputation for saying little and judging much. “Be that as it may,” he said. “We should get on with this business. It will soon be noon. Do we all remember the plan?”
“It is not a difficult one,” said von Bek. He jerked at his steed’s reins. “Let’s get on with it.”
Making slow progress through the happy crowds, we eventually came to the bridge. On this side it was also guarded by dismounted lizard-riders who saluted us as we approached.
“We are the invited delegation from the Six Realms,” said Alisaard. “Come to pay our respects to your new Empress.”
One of the guards frowned. “Invited, marm?”
“Invited. By your own Princess Empress Sharadim. Shall we wait here like trinket sellers or shall we proceed to the tradesman’s entrance? I had expected a warmer greeting from a sister…”
They exchanged looks and somewhat sheepishly let us pass. And because the first guards had admitted us, the others let us through without any form of challenge.
“Now follow me,” said Ottro, riding ahead. He was most familiar with the palace and with protocol. He urged his horse forward, under a high arch which must have been twelve feet across and some six feet thick, of solid granite. This led us into a pleasant courtyard of turf surrounded by gravel. We crossed this, again unchallenged. I looked around me. The high walls of the palace reached up everywhere, ending in beautiful, almost ethereal, spires. Yet I felt I was entering a trap from which escape was impossible.
Under another arch, then another, until we came upon a group of young men in green-and-brown livery which Ottro recognised. “Squires,” he cried. “Take our horses. We are late for the ceremony.”
The squires ran forward to do his bidding. We dismounted and Ottro now marched without hesitation through a central door and into what was plainly a private apartment, though unoccupied. “I used to know the lady whose rooms these are,” he said by way of explanation. “Hurry, my friends. We’ve had luck with us so far.”
He opened a door and we were in a cool corridor with high ceilings and more of the colourful wall hangings enjoyed by these people. A few boys in the same green-and-brown livery, a young woman in a white-and-red gown, an old man in fur-trimmed plaid, looked at us with casual curiosity as we walked purposefully in Ottro’s wake, turned a corner, then another, mounted three flights of marble stairs and eventually came to a heavy wooden door which he opened carefully, then signed for us to follow him.
This chamber was dark, unoccupied. Shades were drawn across all the windows. Cloying incense burned here. Great thick-leaved plants grew in profusion, giving the place something of the air of a huge greenhouse. There was the same sticky humidity, reminiscent of the tropics.
“What is this place?” asked von Bek, shuddering. “It is so different in atmosphere from all the rest.”
“It is the room where Prince Flamadin died,” said one of the squires. “On yonder couch.” He pointed. “It’s evil you can smell, sir.”
“Why should it be kept in darkness?” I wanted to know.
“Because they say Sharadim still communicates with the soul of her dead brother…”
It was my turn to feel a chill. Did they refer to the soul of the body I now inhabited?
“I heard she keeps his corpse in these chambers,” another said. “Frozen. Uncorrupted. Exactly as it was the minute the last breath went out of him.”
I grew impatient. “These are mere rumours.”
“Aye, your highness,” said a squire in swift agreement. Then he frowned. I felt a sympathy for him. He was not the only one who felt confused. I had been murdered in this room, by all accounts—or, at least, something which was almost myself had been murdered. I put my hand to my head. My senses seemed momentarily to leave me.
Von Bek caught me. “Steady, man. God knows what this can mean to you. It’s bad enough for me.”
With his support I was able to collect myself. Now we followed Ottro through the chambers, every one as dark and as unwholesome as the last, until we came to another outer door. Here he stopped.
We could hear sounds from the other side of the door. Music. Shouts. Cheering.
I understood our plan, but I still found it hard to believe we had already gained so much. My heart began to pound. I nodded to Ottro.
With a sudden movement the old man drew back the bolts from the double doors and kicked them outwards with a crash.
We stared into a sea of colour, of metal and silk, of faces already turning towards us in curiosity at the sound.
We stared into the great, vaulted ceremonial hall of the Valadek, at lances and banners and armour and every kind of finery, a predominance of rose-red and white, of gold and black. From the huge windows set at both ends of this hall poured great shafts of sunlight, half-blinding us.
Mosaics, tapestries and stained glass contrasted magnificently with the pale, carved stone of the hall and seemed to be designed to lead the eye towards the very centre where, from a throne of blue and emerald obsidian, a woman of astonishing beauty was rising, her glance meeting mine the moment I reached the first step down the wide staircase which ended at the dais on which her throne was set.
Flanking her were men and women in heavy robes. These were the religious dignitaries of the Valadek, also married siblings as had been our custom for two thousand years. She wore the ancient Robe of Victory. It had not been settled on a member of the Valadek for centuries. We had never wanted to wear it again, for it was a War Robe, a robe signifying conquest by force of arms. She had offered it to me and I had refused it.
She held in her hands the Half Sword, the old broken blade of our barbarian ancestors, said to have killed the last of the Anishad bloodline, a girl of six, establishing the reign of our family until the reformation of the monarchy, when princes and princesses were chosen by the people. Sharadim and Flamadin had been chosen. We had been chosen because we were twins and this was thought a perfect omen. We should marry and bless the nation. The nation knew we would be lucky for them. They had not understood how much Sharadim had wanted this chance at power. I remembered our arguments. I remembered her disgust for what she saw as my feebleness. I had reminded her that we were elected, that any power we had was a gift of the people, that we were answerable to parliaments and councils. She had laughed at this.
– For three and a half centuries our blood has waited to be revenged. For three and a half centuries our family spirits have held their peace, knowing the moment must come, knowing that the fools would forget—knowing that if they had wished to see the last of their rightful masters, the Sardatrian Bharaleen, they should have done what we did to the Anishads and killed every last one of them, to the most distant cousins. We are fully of that blood, Flamadin. Our people cry out for us to fulfill our destiny…
“NO!”
Her eyes widened as, slowly, I began to descend the steps.
“No, Sharadim. You
shall not come so easily to this power. Let the world know, at least, by what foul means you achieved it. Let them know that you will bring disorder, horror, bloody torment to this realm. Let them know that you plan to ally yourself with the darkest powers of Chaos, that you would conquer first this realm and then make yourself Empress of the Six Realms of the Wheel. Let them know you are even prepared to let down the barriers which hold back the forces of the Nightmare Marches. Let this great assembly know, Sharadim, my sister, that you feel only contempt for them because they had thought our old blood mellowed when actually it had gained a fierce intensity for being constrained so long. Let them know, Sharadim, who sought first to seduce me and then to slay me, what you think of their simple enthusiasm and their good will. Let them know you aspire to be immortal, to be elevated into the pantheon of Chaos!”
I had planned for the huge effect my words would have in that vast hall. My voice boomed. My words were knives, each one going directly to its target. Yet, until that moment, I had not known what I was going to say.
The memory had come to me suddenly. For a little while, it seemed, I had possessed Flamadin’s mind, his own recollection of his sister’s statements to him.
I had thought to make some revelation before the gathered nobles of a dozen nations. But I had not for a second suspected that it would be so specific or so accurate! I had begun by possessing the body of Prince Flamadin. Now Prince Flamadin had taken possession of me.
“Let them know all your thoughts, my sister!” I began a further descent. Now I waded through heaped roses, red and pink, and their sweet perfume filled my nostrils almost like a drug. “Tell them the truth!”
Sharadim flung down the Half Sword which, a moment since, she had caressed like a lover. Her face was alight with hatred and, at the same time, a kind of exultant joy. It was almost as if she had rediscovered an admiration for her brother which she had long since forgotten.
Some rose petals drifted lazily in the great shafts of light from the stained glass. I paused again, my hands on my hips, my whole body challenging her. “Tell them, Sharadim, my sister!”
Her voice when at last she spoke held not a trace of uncertainty. Indeed, it bore a cold and horrible authority. It was contemptuous.
“Prince Flamadin is dead, sir. Dead. And you, sir, are a crude imposter!”
4
I HAD LEFT it until now to throw off my cowl. From every part of the hall there came a murmur of recognition. She backed away in fear, as if I were a ghost; others pushed forward to see me better. And out of the crowd near the dais, at Sharadim’s signal, came half a hundred men-at-arms, with ceremonial pikes in their hands, to surround her and the throne.
I pointed behind me. “And if I am an imposter, who are these? My lords and ladies, do you not recognise your peers?”
Ottro, Land Prince of Waldana, came to stand beside me. Then Madvad, Duke of Drane; Halmad, Land Prince of Ruradani and all the other nobles and squires.
“These are the men you sold into slavery, Sharadim. You must wish now that you killed them when you killed the others!”
“Black magic!” cried my twin. “Phantoms conjured by Chaos! My soldiers will destroy them, never fear.”
But now many more nobles were rushing forward. One tall old man in a high crown made of coloured shells raised his hand. “No blood is to be spilled here. I know Ottro of Waldana as if he were my kin. They said you went adventuring, Ottro, to look for fresh gateways to the other Realms. Is that so?”
“I was arrested, Prince Albret, as I tried to take ship to my own land. The Princess Sharadim ordered the arrest. A week later all whom you see here were sold to the Ghost Women as slaves.”
Another wave of murmuring from the crowd.
“We bought these men in good faith,” said Alisaard, still wearing her visor. “But when we learned of their circumstances, we decided to release them.”
“There’s your first miserable lie,” cried Sharadim, seating herself upon her throne again. “When have the Ghost Women cared about the source of their slaves or of their circumstances? This is some plot hatched between rebellious nobles and foreign enemies to discredit me and weaken the Draachenheem…”
“Rebellious?” Prince Ottro took a step or two further until he was standing below me. “Pray, madam, what do we rebel against? Your authority is purely ceremonial, is it not? And if it is not, why do you not reveal that fact?”
“I spoke of common treachery,” she said. “To all our Realm and its nations. They disappeared not because they were captured, but because they sought an alliance with the Gheestenheemers. It is they who seek to corrupt our traditions. It is they who hope to gain power for themselves over us all.” Sharadim’s face was the picture of outraged virtue. Her fair skin seemed to glow with honesty and her large blue eyes had never seemed more innocent. “I was elected to be Empress of the Realm by the suggestion of various barons and Land Princes. If it brings disruption rather than added unity to the Draachenheem, I shall of course refuse the honour…”
There was considerable approval of her speech and many cried for her to ignore us.
“This woman deceived almost the entire Realm,” Ottro continued. “She will bring ruin and black misery to us all, I know it. She is a mistress of deception. See this boy?” He brought young Federit Shaus to stand by him. “Many must recognise him. A squire in the employ of Prince Flamadin. He saw Princess Sharadim place the poison in the wine with which she intended to murder her brother. He saw Prince Flamadin fall…”
“I murdered my brother?” Sharadim turned astonished eyes on the assembled nobles. “Murdered him? I am confused. Did you not say that this was Prince Flamadin?”
“I am he.”
“And you are murdered, sir?”
There was laughter in the hall.
“The attempt failed, madam.”
“I did not murder Prince Flamadin. Prince Flamadin was exiled because he attempted to murder me. The whole world knows that. Every one of the Six Realms knows that. Many thought I should have killed him. Many thought me too lenient. If this is Prince Flamadin returned from exile, then he is breaking the Law and should be placed under arrest.”
“Princess Sharadim,” I said. “You were too quick to judge me an imposter. Any normal response would have been for you to have assumed I was your brother returned…”
“My brother had his weaknesses, sir. But he was not evidently a madman!”
This drew further approving laughter from the crowd. But many were wavering.
“This will not do,” cried the old man in the crown of shells. “As Hereditary Master of the Rolls I must use my authority in this matter. All must be put to Law. Let everyone be given the proper opportunities to speak. One day is all it will take, I am sure, for everyone to be heard. And then, if everything is still in order, the coronation can commence. What do you say, your majesty? My lords and ladies? If the matter is to continue to the satisfaction of us all, let us call a Hearing on it. In this hall at mid-afternoon.”
Sharadim could not refuse and, as for us, it was better than we had hoped for. We agreed at once.
I cried: “Sharadim! Will you grant me an audience in private? You and three chosen companions. I and three of mine?”
She hesitated, looked over to one side of the hall as if in quest of some guidance. Then she nodded. “In the antechamber in half an hour,” she said. “But you cannot convince me, sir, that you are my exiled brother. Surely you did not think I would accept you as my own flesh and blood?”
“Then what am I, madam? A ghost?”
I watched as she and her guards left the hall in a billowing wave of silks and bright metal while the Master of the Rolls signed for us to accompany him through another side door and into a cool chamber, lit by a single large round window above. Once he had closed the door, he sighed. “Land Prince Ottro, I had feared you slain. And you also, Prince Flamadin. There have been uncomfortable rumours here and there. For me, your words today confirm what I suspected
of that woman. Not one of the nobles who voted to make her Empress is the kind I’d willingly invite to my own house. Ambitious, self-serving, foolish fellows all, who believe themselves deserving of greater power. That must be what she offers them. Of course, other, more innocent people followed suit out of ordinary, if misguided, idealism. They see her as a kind of living goddess, a personification of all their highest dreams and hopes. Her beauty, I suppose, has much to do with that. However, it did not need your melodramatic declarations of today to convince me that we are a whisker from complete tyranny. Already she speaks (albeit sweetly) of those in neighbouring realms who envy us our wealth, how we should protect ourselves more thoroughly…”
“Women are always underestimated by men,” said Alisaard, a note of satisfaction in her voice, “and this enables them sometimes to gather far more power to themselves than the men suspect. I have noticed this in my own studies of history, in my own travels about the realms.”
“Believe me, madam, I do not underestimate her,” said the Master of the Rolls, closing the door behind him and motioning us to be seated at a long table of polished oak. “You’ll remember, Prince Flamadin, that I warned you to be more cautious. But you would not believe in your sister’s schemes, her perfidy. She treated you like a favourite child, a wild son, rather than as a brother. And this enabled you to go scampering hither and yon in search of adventure while gradually she amassed more and more allies. Even then, you would have scarcely guessed the level of her evil had she not lost patience with you and ordered you to marry her, to consolidate her position. She assumed she could control you, or at least keep you a good distance from Court. Instead, you objected. You objected to her ambitions, her methods, her very philosophy. She tried to persuade you, I know. Then what happened?”
“She tried to kill me.”
“And put it about that you were the would-be murderer. That you were the one who stood against all our ideals and traditions. It is as if she is a reincarnation of Sheralinn, Queen of the Valadek, who regularly filled the moat out there with the blood of those she considered her enemies. I had guessed much of what you said today, but I had not realised she consciously sought to re-establish your dynasty as Empress of the Draachenheem. And you say she seeks the aid of Chaos? Chaos has not entered the Six Realms since the Sorcerers’ War, more than a thousand years ago. It is contained within the hub, in the Nightmare Realm. We swore we would never let it through again.”