“Don’t get too settled,” I said. “We’re going into the palace.”
“You can’t,” he said. “Boaz’s orders.”
“I’ve got business with Jaganath,” I replied. “Are you coming with me, or not?”
Slowly, he stood up again, his eyes searching my face. “You are joking, aren’t you?” he said.
“No, I’m not. I’ll go alone if I have to.”
“You can’t! All the things we’ve heard of him, of the things he does, his evil! How can you fight him? You don’t have those powers! Besides, Boaz gave me orders. If Jaganath takes you prisoner . . .”
“Come and stand here, by me,” I said.
He obeyed, though a fear was in him. And then, for the only time in my life, I created an illusion just to impress: I lifted my right hand, palm upward, and sent up from it a flame, tiny at first, that increased until it was a column higher than a spear; a perfect fire, blazing fine and strong against the ancient stones all around. I breathed on it, and the fire faded, spread out like glass, a shining wall between us, high as the lofty roof, and hard as steel.
“Touch it,” I said.
Hesitantly, with fear, he leaned forward and touched the glass. He knocked on it with his knuckles, and it hummed softly like a metal gong. I melted it, and his hand went through as if it were smoke. He withdrew his fingers and wiped them on his tunic, as if something from the image clung to them. I blew out my breath again, and the illusion vanished.
Ishtok was shaking.
I lifted the amulet Sheel Chandra had given me and held it out. “The man who gave me this,” I said, “is called Sheel Chandra. He is the one man in the world who equals Jaganath in power. Sheel Chandra taught me how to spin images out of nothing. He taught me to fly in my mind, to see my people wherever they are, as he taught me to see you when your Hena family visited. I can shield my thoughts with a force greater than that simple illusion you just saw. And I know that this hour, in these very moments, that great and powerful man, my teacher, will be shielding me with powers far stronger than anything Jaganath can conjure up.
“I don’t ask you to face Jaganath with me, Ishtok. That is my battle, and I will not be alone in it. But I would be grateful if you would make it possible for me to get past his guards. Your arrows are swifter and farther-reaching than Navoran swords. I know I ask you to fight some of the strongest guards in the Empire, and I will understand if—”
“Of course I’ll clear the way for you,” he said, with a tense smile. “I would rather do that—fight Jaganath’s personal guards faithful to him—than fight unwilling soldiers in his army, men like Embry and Boaz. I’ll be glad to go with you to your battleground.”
Briefly I lifted Sheel Chandra’s amulet to my forehead, and saw a white light full of goodness and wisdom and power. In absolute trust, I took off the amulet and put it about Ishtok’s neck. Then we ascended the stairs into the palace.
We came out in a kitchen deserted and dim. We walked through, and almost slipped in the blood of a dead guard just outside the door. There were more passages and ascending stairs, and with each step the darkness grew more gray. We came out in a small courtyard made of white stone. Above, the skies were turning pink, their blush reflecting in polished pillars and paving stones. There was no grass. Across the courtyard was a wide pillared walkway with gracefully arched doors leading to rooms and passages beyond. There was a pool in the middle of the courtyard, and a fountain. It was unbelievably serene. Yet we could smell burning, and a column of black smoke was rising from somewhere beyond.
Again I recalled Chetobuh’s memories, his knowledge of the palace layout. He had served Jaganath himself and knew well the way to the royal rooms. I was surprised at how familiar the palace seemed to me. Ishtok followed me so close behind, I could hear his quick breaths. He had an arrow in place, and I could feel the tension in him, but no fear anymore. Neither was I afraid; I had an incredible sense of peace, of being shielded and guided, and felt only eagerness to at last meet face-to-face this man in whose presence lay my true battleground.
We went down white stone passageways, through arched and curtained doors, through splendid rooms with domed ceilings painted with silver stars, and up flights of stairs. In many of the doorways guards lay with their throats cut. We pressed on, past pillars of black polished stone, along carpets of stunning design. Smoke was thick now, swirling about the high pillars and in the curved ceilings, and billowing out the elegant windows. Everywhere curtains burned, fiery fragments falling from windows and doorways. Carpets smoldered, and wooden furniture flamed against blackening stone walls.
From somewhere close came shouts and screams, and the sound of blades clashing. Suddenly there was a man, his back to us. He heard us and swung around, his sword drawn. He wore black, with a red horse embroidered on the front of his tunic. Before he could take breath, I heard the swift wind of an arrow, and the guard fell, pierced through the heart, his sword clattering on the polished floor beside him. Ishtok got another arrow, and we hurried deeper into the palace. Twice more we were accosted by guards, and those, too, Ishtok left dead. We saw many more guards in black, lying dead or dying, some with knives in their backs. The floors around were stained with blood.
Finally we passed down a hallway of gleaming black stone. At the end of it was a pair of high doors covered with gold. Six guards lay in their blood outside them, with the bodies of three of Boaz’s soldiers. I held up my hand, and Ishtok stopped.
“Wait here,” I said.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No. He would try to get to me through you. He would do terrible things to you, just to break me. I can’t protect both of us. This is my fight, Ishtok; I was trained for this.”
Unwillingly, he nodded. I went close to him and raised the amulet about his neck. Unutterable peace flooded over me. “If ever you are in need of help,” I said, “raise this to your forehead. You will see a vision of an old man. Do as he tells you.”
I kissed him, then said a prayer, and faced the golden doors. Pushing them open with both hands, I passed through. Beyond them was an archway heavily curtained. I pushed aside the drapes, and went in.
The room was full of fire. The sight of it, the sound of its roaring, the pungent smell of smoke, almost beat me back; but then—perhaps because I was protected—I realized that there was no heat. Then I saw that the red carpet beneath my feet did not burn, and that the white marble floor on either side remained untouched by the fire, though the flames licked and poured along it toward me. It was a strong illusion, and I knew that to believe in it even for a moment would be to feel its heat, to die in its intensity. Remembering all that Sheel Chandra had taught me, steeling my mind, giving doubt no place, I stepped into the flames. I cannot describe the feeling of walking in that illusion, the strangeness of the effect of heat beating all about me, of intense forces lifting my hair and brushing my face, indescribable radiance licking my skin, leaving me almost breathless; yet there was no heat, no burning. On I walked, and soon the illusion of fire faded and vanished away, and I saw near my feet, lying contorted, as if they had died in utmost agony, the bodies of two soldiers. One of them was Boaz.
Kneeling, I put my hand on his neck. There was no pulse. Neither was there a mark on him, though he had died screaming, with an arm across his eyes, horror and anguish in his face. For a moment I was almost undone, moved by sorrow and the enormity of the evil that had defeated him. I checked the other soldier, saw no mark on him, either, though he was dead. Gathering up my courage, I said a prayer for their souls, and stood up and faced the way ahead. All the fire had gone, and the room shone in the early sun that poured in through tall windows on my right. The red carpet went on only a little farther, and at the end of it was a golden chair with cushions of purple velvet. On the chair sat a man.
He was leaning with an elbow on the arm of the chair, his elegant right hand stroking his oiled and curled beard. He was olive skinned, handsome, with very black eyes. He smiled a l
ittle as if he were amused and said, in a voice as soft as silk, “Welcome, daughter of Gabriel Eshban Vala.”
Slowly, again shielding myself with light, knowing that what I saw now was indeed reality, I approached the throne of the Emperor Jaganath.
29
He was a striking man, in a dark and evil way. Though perhaps more than sixty summers old, he appeared younger, potent and forceful. Smiling, still stroking his beard, he watched me approach. His fingers glittered with jewels, and his long robes, the color of emeralds, were richly embroidered with purple and gold, and there were gems sewn into his sleeves. His hair was shoulder length, curled into ringlets, and a narrow band of gold was about his brow. So lordly he was, so majestic in many ways, that I had a strong urge to fall to my knees before him. I remained standing. With my whole inner force I protected my mind, envisaging a helmet of light, and a radiant unseen armor all over me. Above everything, I did not want him to know my thoughts, to know of the full force of the tribes gathered against him. Here, now, in the arena of my mind, I faced the biggest battle of my life.
“I trust you haven’t come to arrest me,” he said quietly, with a charming, deadly smile. “Others have tried that, and you passed their corpses. The mind is an awful and marvelous weapon. The men you saw were killed by their own fear. It never fails to astonish me, the power of belief. But you are well aware of that. You must also be aware of the fact that it is impossible for any person on earth to overpower me.”
“I have not come to arrest you, Jaganath,” I said. “That is the task of the new rulers of the city. But I will take you prisoner and make you incapable of resisting them.”
He laughed softly. “You’re a true Shinali,” he said. “Mad with dreams. I know that your people are on their way. The watchmen in the highest tower spied them the moment they came through Taroth Pass. Also, I saw them myself, in the mind of the soldier Boaz, before he died. I saw you, in his mind. I know all about you, Avala. Everything.”
He lied, I knew. I said nothing but kept my protection strong, unbreakable. He went on, still in a quiet, sardonic way, “I know all things, see all things. I know that your people march with deserters from my own army, led by that traitor Embry. When the battle begins you can watch with me. You will see your people slaughtered one by one, exterminated like rats on their own land. Even as we speak, I have my army on the move—six thousand men, fully armed, marching out to meet them. And how many on your side? A thousand?
“Did they grow impatient, your people, Avala? Were the Hena and the Igaal too set in the ways of old enemies, to become your allies? Was the nomadic life too hard for the soft Shinali? Was the great prophecy too long in being fulfilled? Did they decide to march anyway, aided only by Embry’s treacherous little troop?”
Here it was, the truth, the hidden heart of what he wanted—information about the one thing that threatened him, his one almighty fear. I saw it in his eyes, his suspicion of a trap. His lips curved, but his eyes were piercing and watchful, and I had the uncanny feeling that something cold and supernatural crawled about the edges of my mind, probing, seeking a way in. I closed myself against him, and spoke out my own little deception.
“We have a priest,” I said, “who is a great visionary and seer. He had a vision in which he was told that even the greatest prophecies cannot come to pass without the willing agreement of those destined to fulfill them. He was told that even the All-father cannot cross the free will of any human being. And that willing agreement we could not get from the Hena and the Igaal, for they remain our bitter enemies. But in his vision, our priest heard that another people would rise up to become our ally, and with them we must fight, and with them the Time of the Eagle would come. Then, soon after our priest’s vision, we were found by the man called Embry and his Navoran army. And so we march, and the Time of the Eagle has come.”
For a few moments the Emperor was silent, watching me, seeking out a chink in my armor. I remembered Zalidas in a trance, his whole being caught up in the splendor of the other world, and that much I let Jaganath see, and no more.
Satisfied, the Emperor said, with a kind of glee, “Your poor, foolish priest! Your poor, foolish people! You all have been deceived. You see, Avala, I know the power of the old prophecy. Prophecies don’t change. Your people were meant to join with the Hena and the Igaal. Then, and only then, can the prophecy be fulfilled. I know. Today is not the day for your people to march. Today is not the Time of the Eagle. Today is the day of doom for your people. They are cursed, for their stupidity and their blindness and their impatience.”
“You lie,” I said, pretending doubt. “You know nothing about prophecies, about sacred visions. You deal in illusion, in what is false, in deceit.”
“Do I? Where do you think I learned my powers, Avala? I was one of the most powerful Masters at the Citadel, in days gone by. I had a great friend, Sheel Chandra. We were equal in power, he and I. But I left the Citadel, chose to be free, to use my power unhindered. Sheel Chandra was weak, he chose to remain there, his abilities tied up in knots by their petty laws and regulations. He taught your father. I would have been your father’s teacher, if he had had the courage to walk out of the Citadel and ally himself with me. Gabriel could have been the greatest man in the Empire by now, next to me.” His voice fell, became soft and seductive. “I loved your father, Avala. He was my great enemy, but I loved him. I loved his courage, even when he opposed me. And I love your courage. I honor it, as I honor your skill in seeing through my illusions. It was no small thing you accomplished, walking through my fire.”
I said nothing, waiting for the next insidious attack.
Suddenly he lifted his head as if listening. Then he smiled, not a mocking, cruel smile, but one with joy. “Avala!” he cried softly. “This day all your dreams are fulfilled. There’s someone here who wishes to see you.”
His voice, his eyes, his pretended joy, entranced me. Breaking his hold, I tore my gaze from his and looked instead at the wall behind his throne. There was a painting there of the city of Navora. And beside the painting, radiant as the morning sun flooding across him, stood my father.
So real he looked, with his crimson robes and green sash, and his red-gold hair curling on his shoulders, every strand clear and vivid in the sun. And his eyes—how they looked on me, so full of love, of joy! He spoke my name, and I knew, I knew, that was how his voice had sounded! He held out a hand toward me, palm up, the hollow of it filled with light. He was grave and glad, fierce and full of peace, and beautiful, all beautiful. I longed to run to him, to touch his hand, his face, to feel his warmth. Yet I knew that if I did he would change into something unspeakably ugly that would break my heart and haunt me for the rest of my life.
I said to Jaganath, “That is not my father.”
The Emperor gave a soft laugh, though his eyes on me turned hard, like the eyes of a snake. The illusion vanished. “Your father would be very proud of you, Avala!” he said. “He, too, was highly suspicious of me. You’re very like him. Idealistic and passionate, with a little power. But you’re also foolhardy and shortsighted. He crossed me, and died for it. The same fate will be yours. You made a big mistake, seeking me out. What did you hope to achieve? To confront me with my wrongs, the way your father did? To kill me, maybe? No—you won’t do that. You have an aversion to violence. A horror of it. A fear. You’re like your father, Avala. Weak. Spineless. Double-minded. Do you know what drove him to your Shinali people? To your mother? It wasn’t love, Avala. It was guilt. Fear.”
I longed to answer him but closed my mouth, shut all myself against him. If just for a moment I believed him, he would have a hook into my heart and into my mind.
The Emperor went on, his voice velvet smooth, full of cunning. “I’ll tell you why he was guilty. He stole something from your people. Something priceless, a great Shinali amulet. He was only a boy when he stole it. He stole it from a wounded Shinali woman, and he left her there to die alone in the mud while he ran away with her amulet. And
that was what drove him to your people—his guilt. He was a weak man, unworthy of the huge honor our Empire placed on him. He was never worthy of the Citadel. Never worthy of being taught by the Masters there. I wasn’t surprised when I knew he’d abandoned them, betrayed his Empire and his own family, and gone to hide with the very people he had stolen from. And you are the same, with the same feeble-mindedness and hypocrisy. Like him, you’re torn between two nations. Like him, you’ll betray one of them in the end.”
The armor, the armor over me. How close he came to tearing it apart! He said other things, but I did not listen. I was somewhere else, in a high place, my head on Sheel Chandra’s knee, and his hand was on my head, shielding me. When I was aware of the Emperor again, he was getting to his feet.
“I’m going to watch the slaughter of your people,” he said. “If you wish to take me prisoner, you’ll have to follow. I presume that is still your plan?”
“At the right time,” I replied.
He looked amused. “Let us watch the slaughter first, Avala. Then we’ll play your little game.”
He went to the corner of the room and through a curtained doorway. Beyond the curtains were more stairs. Like the stairs in the tower room at Taroth Fort, they wound upward, spiraling. Jaganath stood on the lower step, half turned, as if expecting me to be too afraid to follow. When he saw that I was with him, he smiled darkly and beckoned, then faced the stairs and ascended them. I followed. He called down over his shoulder, in a friendly tone, “No need to fear, Avala. No more tricks, no more illusions. Reality will be hard enough for you to bear now.”
“I’m not afraid,” I said.
We came out in a rounded room with green carpets and a wide window. It had no glass, but thick wooden shutters were folded back and fixed against the stone walls. A large telescope stood by the window. Beyond, the skies were silver blue, the horizon streaked with a few clouds of pure gold. I was surprised to find it still early morning; already the day had seemed long.