Читать книгу Black Jade - David Zindell, David Zindell - Страница 14

Abrasax oriented his long, stately body toward Estrella, sitting almost motionlessly on her cushion by her table. For a long time he regarded her in silence. His liquid brown eyes seemed to empty of all thoughts, even questions, even as they filled with a strange and piercing light. The round crystal resting in his open palm gleamed like a little star. Those of the other masters seemed to resonate with it, gathering radiance from it and feeding it back to Abrasax’s stone, all at once.

At last, the Grandmaster’s eyes regained their normal focus. And in his deep, strong voice, he announced, ‘This girl’s aura is like none I have ever seen. So pure: as if the flames of her chakras flow toward one color, in one direction. And bright it is – so very bright.’

Abrasax continued gazing at Estrella, who sat peacefully on her big red cushion gazing back at him. Estrella’s happy smile seemed to warm Abrasax’s heart, and his whole face pulled into a smile, highlighting the deep lines around his eyes.

‘Strange,’ he murmured as he looked at her. ‘There is indeed something strange about this girl.’

‘Then is it possible,’ Master Storr asked, ‘that she is truly a seard?’

Abrasax nodded his head. ‘I’m certain that she is. Master Juwain has identified her correctly.’

‘But what is a seard?’ Daj asked from his place next to Estrella. It was the first time that evening he had dared to speak. ‘Master Juwain tried to explain it, but I didn’t really understand.’

‘I’m not sure that I fully understand, either,’ Abrasax said. ‘But from the accounts in the Book of Illuminations, it is clear that seards are great and pure souls, gifted with being able to see deeply into all things and all people, and most especially the Maitreya. I believe that Estrella might perceive the Shining One where others could not, perhaps not even himself.’

He went on to say that where I might be the fated guardian of the Lightstone, and therefore of the Maitreya, a seard such as Estrella was his herald.

‘Then, Grandfather,’ Master Matai said, ‘you must believe Kasandra’s prophecy will prove true, that the girl will show the Maitreya?’

‘I believe the prophecy. She would be drawn to him like a fire moth finding its mate across many miles.’

Although I could not behold Estrella’s aura just then as Abrasax did, she seemed the brightest being in the room, and her eyes outshone even the silustria of my sword.

‘It’s a pity,’ Master Matai said, ‘that she cannot speak to us. I would like to know where she was born, and when. A seard’s stars would be close to those of a Maitreya.’

‘It is a pity that she cannot speak,’ Master Okuth said. He was a smallish man who seemed to hold inside his kind green eyes whole rivers of compassion. ‘For pity’s sake, and her own, I would like a chance to heal her of her affliction.’

Master Juwain held up his varistei and said to him, ‘More than once, before the Red Dragon regained the Lightstone, I tried to use this to heal Estrella – in vain. Of course, I am only a Master Healer; you are the Master Healer.’

‘I believe you have done as much as any of us can do,’ Master Okuth told him. ‘At least until the Maitreya is found and comes into his power. My power is now constrained. I am entrusted with a green gelstei, as are you, but the Red Dragon knows that we keep this stone, and I do not dare to use it.’

‘Then how do you propose to heal Estrella?’

‘In truth, I don’t. At least not here, and not tonight. But it may be that through the Great Gelstei, she could speak to us in a way that we can understand, for a short while.’

‘And the cost to the girl? What if she doesn’t want to speak?’

All eyes now turned on Estrella, sitting calmly as she nibbled on a cake crumb and regarded Master Okuth.

‘There should be no cost,’ Master Okuth said.

‘Just the opposite,’ Master Matai said. ‘Those whose chakras have been opened by the Great Gelstei feel strengthened and enlivened.’

‘And you believe that engendering speech,’ Master Juwain said to Master Okuth, ‘is it merely a matter of opening the girl this way?’

‘It is indeed more complicated than that,’ Master Okuth told us. ‘Much more complicated. But let us just say that the power of the seven Openers projects through sound and resonates with the secret music that inheres in all things.’

Kane scowled at this, and looked at me. I knew that my savage friend hated it when the Brothers spoke so esoterically.

‘You have my promise,’ Abrasax assured us, ‘that this test will leave Estrella unharmed. But will she consent to it?’

Estrella looked at him with complete trust. Then she quickly nodded her head.

‘Good,’ Abrasax said. ‘Then why don’t we begin?’

He held his hand, cupping his clear gelstei, out toward Estrella. The other Masters did likewise with their crystals. Estrella sat very straight and still, not knowing what to expect. She seemed at once curious and bemused by the powers of these seven old men and their mysterious crystals.

As we all waited, breathing deeply, the seven Openers began to luminesce. I sensed, rather than saw, the seven wheels of light along Estrella’s spine scintillating in response to the gelstei’s touch. The red of the First, Master Matai’s stone, seemed to give its fire to Estrella’s lowest chakra even as something deep inside Estrella called out to it. And this calling we all heard as a single, clear, plangent note. It played back and forth between Estrella and the gelstei. The other Masters with their stones likewise opened Estrella’s other chakras, and a beautiful music poured out into the chamber’s cool air. I could almost see the colors of this music. Master Storr’s gleaming purple stone, I thought, struck deep chords with some secret organ of speech within Estrella’s head. Master Yasul’s gelstei, the Fifth, as blue as a sapphire, blazed more brightly than did any of the others. It seemed to summon a bright song from within Estrella’s throat. Without warning, she began laughing out loud: a delightful sound like the tinkling of bells. And then her mouth opened as perfectly formed words began pouring from her lips like a silver stream:

‘I’ve wanted to talk so badly, to tell you things, Val, Maram, Atara, everyone, to tell you everything, and now there is all the time in the world, but so little time. Now, I can speak again, and that’s a miracle but it won’t last because nothing does and yet everything …’

She continued chattering on in a like way as we all sat listening in amazement. Her voice was sweet, passionate and perfectly clear. It flowed with a musical quality, bright as the notes of a flute. It partook of Atara’s diction and phrasing, and Liljana’s, too, as if she patterned her speech after that of these two women whom she adored. And yet, this torrent of sound fairly soared with a wild joy that was all her own. It seemed that she wanted to cram the entire world into a few, quick, rushing breaths:

‘… it’s all so beautiful, and I’m so grateful, Val – Val, Val, Val! – so grateful to you for saving my life. For life. I’ve wanted so badly to sing with you, and Kane, our bright, bloody, beautiful Kane, and all of you, to sing and laugh: to laugh at Maram and his silly, stupid, wonderful jokes. To weep with Atara. No eyes, no tears, no hope, it seems, but love – love, love, love! There is so much to say. But so little, really, only one thing, and I should be glad I can speak again, almost as I did inside, not in words but in a kind of music that gives birth to words. Do you know what I mean? It’s like the singing of the birds: so pretty, so pure, so here … and now, and yet always and forever. This beautiful, beautiful thing – it sings me! I am so happy! And so I can’t help singing, too, to the birds and the sky and the world, and everything sings back, in rubies and rainbows, in songs to the sun, and sometimes even in silence. The silence. It’s pulling me back, soon, too soon, but don’t feel sorry for me, please! These fires that the old men’s gelstei lit inside me flare like little suns, but soon they will fade, I can feel it, quickly burning out but never quite out. Because it always blazes, even in dark things: black gelstei and burnt crosses and hate. Val! – even in the dead! In your father and mother, and mine, wherever they are, because no one is ever really dead and there is a light that always shines, the light, the light, the light …

As the candles’ flames cast dancing shadows on the room’s graven walls, we all sat regarding Estrella. At last, she seemed to run out of things to say. She sat peacefully on her cushion with her fingers laced together. I could not tell if she had fallen quiet for a moment or had returned to the deeper silence of the mute.

And then Abrasax nodded his head and said to her, ‘That was remarkable.’

‘Yes, remarkable,’ Master Storr agreed. But his voice swelled with a patronizing tone, and he seemed to regard Estrella as if she might be simpleminded. He said to her, ‘I’m sure that we were all touched by your … enthusiasm. But I’m not sure that any of our questions has been answered.’

‘But you haven’t asked me any questions yet!’ she said to him. She smiled at him, and then laughed softly, and I felt her voice box vibrating like the strings of a mandolet.

‘You must know, child, what we wish to know.’

Estrella looked at the Brotherhood’s seven masters, who studied her every expression. She said, ‘I think you want to know everything.’

Even the sour, serious Master Storr smiled at this. ‘No, not everything – at least not tonight. But we would like to learn more concerning the Maitreya. Can you not tell us anything about him?’

‘But I already did!’

Master Storr rubbed at his eyes and stared at her. ‘To speak once again after so long a silence must be a strain on you. On your throat, on your lungs … even on your mind. I’m not sure that we all understood what you said.’

Her response to this was to smile at him as if she felt very sorry for his inability to apprehend the most simple of things.

‘And so,’ Master Storr continued, as his face reddened, ‘we still have questions that we would –’

‘But why don’t you just ask them, then?’

Master Storr drew in a long breath as he squeezed his fingers around his purple crystal. And he said to Estrella: ‘You are a seard – this seems beyond any doubt. But how is it that a seard can recognize the Maitreya?’

‘How should I know,’ she said, ‘since I haven’t recognized him yet?’

‘But you must have some idea!’

Estrella brushed back the dark curls from around her eyes and glanced at Abrasax. ‘How do you recognize the Grandfather when you meet him walking down a path?’

‘But I know him! I’ve known him, now, for nearly fifty years!’

‘I’ve known the Shining One for fifty thousand years. As long as the stars have shined. Really, forever.’

Master Storr waved his hand in the air, and shook his head. He seemed to give up hope of understanding anything that she told him.

And then Master Matai steered the questioning along a different tack as he asked her, ‘Can you tell me where you were born, and when?’

‘I’m sorry, but I don’t remember. Perhaps it was in the Dark City.’

‘In Argattha? But didn’t anyone ever tell you how old you are?’

‘No, I don’t think they did. Does it matter?’

‘It might help in corroborating the Maitreya’s horoscope.’

‘But if you’ve drawn up his horoscope, you already know how old he is and where he was born!’

Now it was Master Matai’s turn to throw up his hand in frustration.

Then Abrasax said to her, ‘Estrella, do you have any idea where the Maitreya might be found?’

With a quick, glad motion, she nodded her head.

‘Where, then?’

And she told him, ‘Here.’

‘Here?’ Abrasax said. ‘Do you mean, on Ea? In these mountains?’

‘No, here, with us in this room, I hope. He is.’

Abrasax’s eyebrows pulled together. He seemed as mystified by Estrella as were Master Matai and Master Storr. He asked her, ‘But who is the Maitreya, then?’

Without hesitation, she looked at me and said, ‘Val is.’

My heart suddenly pounded inside my chest with hard, painful beats. I did not want to believe what I had heard her say.

And neither, it seemed, did Abrasax. He said to Estrella, ‘You were with Valashu in Tria when it was finally proved that he could not be the Maitreya. And now you are telling us that he is?’

‘Yes, he is,’ Estrella said smiling at me. She turned to look at the table to the right of mine. ‘And so is Maram.’

‘Sar Maram Marshayk!’ Abrasax said.

Maram’s eyes widened in astonishment as he patted his overstuffed belly and belched.

‘Yes, he – he is!’ Estrella said. ‘And Master Storr, too.’

The Master Galastei shook his head as he looked at Abrasax. And then Master Okuth, sitting next to him as he held out his green crystal, announced, ‘The girl is tiring, and so we should conclude the test.’

‘The girl is more than tired,’ Master Storr said. ‘She suffers from delusion.’

‘No, only from confusion, I think,’ Master Okuth said. ‘We know that the Red Dragon, in making her mute, did mischief to her mind. Our gelstei have let her summon up words but it seems have not undone the harm. There is something about her words and our understanding of them, and vice versa, that doesn’t quite go together. It is like oil and water.’

‘Her words,’ Master Storr said, speaking in front of Estrella as if she were only one of the room’s ornaments, ‘are as unreliable as thin ice over a pond. I do not see how we can trust her to recognize the Maitreya.’

Liljana, sitting next to me, had finally had enough of Master Storr’s rudeness. She leaned over to the table next to her, and threw her arm around Estrella as she said, ‘You speak of words, and yet fail to use them precisely. Kasandra prophesied that Estrella would show the Maitreya, not merely recognize him.’

‘I’m not sure I see the difference,’ Master Storr said.

‘I’m not sure you do,’ Liljana said, drawing Estrella closer as she glared at Master Storr. ‘And so who is deluded?’

At this, Abrasax held up his hand as if to ask for peace. He said, ‘And I’m not sure that words, or any understanding of them, will help Estrella fulfill the prophecy. Her mind might or might not have been harmed, but not her eyes and certainly not her heart.’

‘Then why don’t we,’ Master Storr huffed out, ‘conclude the test as we had agreed?’

Abrasax inclined his head at this, and said to Estrella, ‘Are you willing?’

‘Yes, I am,’ Estrella said, nodding back to him. She slumped on her cushion, slightly, and rubbed at her eyes. ‘But I am tired. I’d like to talk and talk all night, and maybe you’d understand, but I’m so so tired, and it was all so bright and warm inside, but now its getting cold, and it hurts, and so will you please give me back the silence?’

‘But there is more,’ Master Storr said, ‘that she might tell us and –’

‘Please – it hurts!’ Estrella said. ‘It hurts, it hurts, it hurts …’

Abrasax regarded her only for a moment before bowing his head to her. Then he closed his fingers around his clear gelstei, which seemed to quiesce and lose its light. The other Masters took this as a cue to put away their stones. Estrella immediately sat up straighter. I felt her plunge into a deep, silent pool. Her face lit up with a smile of contentment that spoke more than entire rivers of words.

Then Abrasax motioned to Master Storr, who reached down by his side. He lifted up a cracked, ebony box and showed it to us. He called for Estrella’s table to be cleared. After Liljana and I helped Masters Nolashar and Yasul move tea cups and plates to our table, Master Storr stood up and stepped over to set the box in front of Estrella. With great reverence, he opened it. One by one, he took out various artifacts: a glass pen, a jade spoon, a chess piece (the white king) carved out of ancient ivory, a plain gold ring. He stood gazing at the items gleaming faintly on the table.

‘One of these things,’ he said to Estrella, ‘once belonged to the last Maitreya, Godavanni the Glorious. Can you recognize which one? Or, that is, show it to us?’

His face hardened into an iron-like mask, so as not to give hint which item this might be. So it was with the other Masters. They hardly dared to breathe as they waited to see what Estrella would do.

As quick as the beating of a bird’s wings, she clapped her hands together. Her face brightened as she smiled with delight. Then, without hesitation, her hands swept forward and closed around the wooden box.

‘Excellent!’ Master Virang cried out. ‘Most excellent!’

‘A seard, indeed,’ Master Nolashar said.

Master Storr’s lips tightened as if someone had forced a sour cherry into his mouth. He looked from Estrella to Liljana, and said, ‘You didn’t, Materix of the Maitriche Telu, teach this girl to read minds, did you?’

In answer, Liljana only glared at him. Master Storr clearly didn’t like what he must have seen in her mind, for he turned away from her and stared at the box cupped in Estrella’s hands.

‘It is known,’ he announced, ‘that Godavanni kept three song stones inside this box. The stones have long since been lost, and perhaps the songs as well, but at least we still have this.’

Estrella set the box back on the table, and smiled at him. And then Abrasax said to Master Storr, ‘This is enough, do you agree? I believe the girl will show us the Maitreya.’

Master Storr rubbed his jaw as he stood eyeing the box. ‘I am coming to believe that, too. But the question that must be answered above all others is: can Valashu Elahad lead her to him?’

And with that, he turned to regard me.

‘Tell me where he might be found,’ I said to Master Storr, ‘and I will lead Estrella there, along with the rest of my friends – and even yourself if you don’t trust me.’

‘Bold words, Prince Valashu,’ Master Storr said. ‘We have heard how you put yourself forward as the Maitreya, with great boldness, and claimed the Lightstone for yourself. To what purpose, we must wonder? You would have made yourself warlord of a grand alliance, commander of a hundred thousand swords, a king of kings – is it your hope now that finding the Maitreya will help you claim this authority?’

The look of scorn on Master Storr’s face made me grind my teeth. Wrath filled my heart then, and to the seven old masters gazing at me I said, ‘What man can say in truth that his purpose is as pure as damask, unstained by any desire for the good regard of other men or influence upon them? Who can declare that every act of his life has flown straight and true as an arrow toward a single target? Did you, Master Storr, Master of the Gelstei, join the Brotherhood solely out of a love for knowledge and service, with no thought at all of excelling and being recognized for your efforts? Do you never doubt if your study of the gelstei conceals a deeper urge to control and wield them? You have heard a great deal about me, it seems, but know very little. I am of the sword, as you have said. I would break it into pieces, if I could. All swords, everywhere. There was a time when I wanted nothing more than to enter the Brotherhood, as you were privileged to do, to play the flute and spend my life making music. But I had duties: to my family, to my father, to my land. To all lands. Fate called me to recover the Lightstone, with the help of my friends, and then to see it stolen by the Crucifier. Was there not one moment when I desired to lead armies against him and see him cut into pieces? Do I never long, now, by force of arms to cut the Cup of Heaven from his bloody hand? If I said no, you would hear the lie in my voice. Hear, then, the truth: six brothers I had, and I would have shouted in gladness if any of them had become king of Mesh before me. A mother, father and grandmother I had, and they are all dead because of me. Four thousand of Mesh’s bravest warriors, too. Everyone knows this. I am an outcast, now. And so I cannot hope to be king of Mesh, let alone lord of a great alliance. All that remains to me is to try to stop the Red Dragon from doing the worst. It is why I think and feel and breathe. I do not dare even to hope that a time may come when I can cast this into the sea and take up the flute once more.’

So saying, I lifted up my sword, and looked at the seven Masters who regarded me. Master Storr stared at me with his cold, blue eyes, and I sensed that he saw only my fury to defeat Morjin.

Abrasax, however, saw other things. He studied me from across our table as he pulled at his beard. ‘We know there were signs that you were the Maitreya.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘there were signs.’

‘But you ignored, didn’t you, the even stronger sign of the truth inside yourself?’

I held my breath in disquiet that he could read me so keenly. Then I said, ‘Yes, I always knew. But I didn’t want to know. I wanted … to make everything right. And so I claimed the Lightstone.’

And upon this crime, destruction and death had followed like an evil wind. Abrasax, I thought, understood this very well, as he understood me. He had no need to act as my accuser and judge when I had already condemned myself so damnably. But he was not ready to see me act as my own executioner. I felt forgiveness pouring out of him, and something else, too: an admonition that hatred of myself could destroy me more surely than any weapon or poison of Morjin’s. Abrasax’s eyes were soft yet unyielding upon my face. Looking into these deep, umber orbs made me want to trust him without question.

‘I didn’t know,’ I told him, ‘who the Maitreya is. Or what he is. And despite what Estrella has told us tonight so beautifully, I still don’t.’

I looked over at Estrella to see if my words disappointed her, but she just smiled at me.

‘Master Juwain,’ Abrasax said, ‘has given an account of the akashic crystal that you found in the little people’s wood. It is too bad that it was broken: you might have gained the knowledge that you sought. But there are other crystals.’

I looked across the room at the golden, False Lightstone resting on its marble pedestal beneath the window; I looked at the seven Masters of the Brotherhood who kept hidden the Great Gelstei. I said, ‘Do you possess an akashic crystal, then?’

‘No, we don’t,’ Abrasax told me. ‘But there is this.’

So saying, he drew forth a book from beneath the pile of cushions behind him and showed it to me. Its cover seemed made of some shiny, hard substance like lacquered wood. Bright golden glyphs shone from it, but I could not read them, for they were of a script unfamiliar to me. Abrasax laid the book on our table. He opened it, and my eyes fairly burned with surprise, for its pages were like none I had ever seen. Abrasax riffled through them, and I thought that there must be thousands of them, each thinner than a piece of rice paper and as clear as a window pane. It seemed that Abrasax’s strong fingers must easily rip or fracture these tinkling, tissue-like wisps. When I expressed my fear of this, he smiled and said, ‘The pages are quite sturdy. Here, try turning them yourself.’

I put my thumb and finger to one of the pages; it felt strangely cool to the touch and as tough as old parchment.

‘I read this long ago,’ Abrasax said. ‘After speaking with Master Juwain earlier, I asked Brother Kendall to retrieve it from the library that we might make reference to it tonight.’

‘You read it how?’ Maram called out. ‘The pages have no letters!’

‘Do they not?’ Abrasax asked him with a smile. ‘Perhaps you are just not looking at them right.’

And with that, he opened the book to a page he had marked, and he held his hand over it. Then Maram gave a little gasp of astonishment, and so did I, for the clear crystal of the page suddenly took on an albescent tone as of the white of an egg being fried. Hundreds of glyphs, like little black worms, popped into view and crowded the page in many columns.

‘Sorcery!’ Maram called out to Abrasax. He thumped his hand down upon our table near the book. ‘I would accuse you of sorcery, as I did Master Virang, but I suppose that you’ll just tell me, ah, that you’re only helping me to see what was already there to see?’

Abrasax exchanged smiles with Master Virang, then turned his attention back to Maram and the book. ‘No, this time the explanation is simpler, for the writing was not there to see. Only one who possesses the key to the book can unlock it and bring the script into sight.’

‘But you made no move to unlock it, unless waving your hand like a conjuror constitutes such. Where is the key?’

Abrasax pointed his finger at his forehead and told Maram, ‘Inside here. Each book is keyed to open to a phrase, which must be memorized and held inside the mind or sometimes spoken.’

‘Like one of the Way Rhymes?’

Abrasax nodded his head at this. ‘The Brotherhood must protect its secrets. And its treasures.’

‘But I never heard that the Brotherhood kept such treasures!’ Maram said as he regarded the book in wonder.

‘Neither,’ Master Juwain said, studying it as well, ‘did I.’

‘But what is its secret?’ Maram asked. ‘Obviously, the pages are made of some sort of gelstei – what sort, and how do you make it?’

‘It is called the vedastei,’ Abrasax informed him as he ran his finger down the page’s glyphs. ‘And I did not say that we made this – only that we protect it. And cherish it for what it contains. It is that knowledge, of the Maitreya, that concerns us now.’

He cleared his throat and pressed his finger at the writing near the middle of the page as he read to us: ‘“He is the Shining One who dwells in two worlds; he is the light inside darkness, and the life that knows no death.”’

Against one of the windows above us, I saw Flick spinning about in a whirl of silver lights. I remembered how, in Tria, the Galadin had sent this luminous being to bring me word of the Maitreya, in verses that I now recited to Abrasax:

The Shining Ones who live and die

Between the whirling earth and sky

Make still the sun, all things ignite –

And earth and heaven reunite.

The Fearless Ones find day in night

And in themselves the deathless light,

In flower, bird and butterfly,

In love: thus dying, do not die.

I finished speaking and nodded at Abrasax. He tapped his book as he said to me, ‘Do not these words concord with your verses and what Estrella has told us tonight?’

Without warning, Maram thumped his hand upon the table, rattling our cups. He looked at Abrasax and grumbled out, ‘Estrella said nothing of two worlds. I, for one, know this world, and that should be enough, shouldn’t it? And yet you of the Brotherhood are never satisfied unless you can speak of another.’

Abrasax’s response to this was to flip through the pages of the book. He must have found the passage that he was seeking, for he suddenly nodded his head. He said to Maram, ‘These words were written by Master Li of the Avasian Brotherhood.’

‘The Avasian Brotherhood? Ah, I’ve never heard of such.’

‘That is because,’ Abrasax said, without further explanation, ‘it existed on another world, that of Varene, many ages ago. Now listen, for this bears most pertinently on the matter of the Maitreya.’

His eyes gleamed as he pulled at his fluffy white beard. Then he read to us:

‘“Two realms there are: the One and the manifold. The first is causeless, inextinguishable, infinite – and some say as blissful as the sun’s light on a perfect spring day. The second realm is created, and all things that dwell there suffer, age and die. It is all nails and fire, beauty that fades, a few moments of sweetness and noble dreams. Some call this the world and others hell. It is man’s path to strive ever upward, toward the heavens, toward the sun. But to go beyond the world toward the One, we must go beyond ourselves. It is almost like dying, is it not? A newborn ceases to exist in becoming a child, as a child does in becoming a man. And as all men must do if they are to walk the path of angels. And then, the greatest death of all when the Galadin perish in their bodies and die into light in the creation of a new universe. Who has utter faith in the goodness of such a sacrifice? Who would not fear that such a path might lead to the utter obliteration of one’s being?”’

Abrasax finished reading and looked at me. ‘And yet we must not fear. Overcoming fear is the cardinal task of any warrior, be he of the sword or the spirit. Many fail. Even the angels.’

He paused to take a drink of tea and moisten his throat. Then he said to me, ‘In Tria, you learned the truth of Angra Mainyu, didn’t you?’

I shrugged my shoulders at this. I glanced at Kane. ‘Can any man know very much about the Galadin?’

‘We know this, I think,’ Abrasax said. ‘Angra Mainyu, and too many of his kind, came to dread the Galadin’s fate. And so he clung to his form as a leech does to living flesh. And so rather than becoming infinitely greater in giving himself to the universe, he tries to suck the blood from all things and take the universe into himself – and so becomes infinitely less.’

I considered this for a moment, then asked him, ‘And the Maitreya?’

‘The Maitreya is sent to heal those such as the Dark One and to keep others from falling as he has.’

I remembered the blood rushing from my father’s lips as he died, and all the thousands of men lying still upon the reddened grass of the Culhadosh Commons. I felt Morjin’s baleful eyes nailing me to a fiery cross, and all the while my heart drummed with a dreadful sickness inside my chest. And I said to Abrasax, ‘Is that possible?’

‘It must be possible.’ He glanced over at Estrella sitting happily at her table. ‘The Maitreya, in great gladness of life, is sent to show all beings the shining depths of themselves that can never die. And that, ultimately, the two realms are one and the same.’

Maram seemed not to like what he was hearing, for he knocked the bottom of his tea cup against the tiled table as if to announce his annoyance. He caught Abrasax’s attention and asked him, ‘Are you saying that when we pass into this infinite realm of yours, that some part of us keeps on shining? And that therefore, there is no true death?’

‘That,’ Abrasax told him, ‘is my belief.’

Maram gazed into his empty teacup as he muttered, ‘And therefore, I suppose, there is nothing to fear.’

‘You understand, then,’ Abrasax said, smiling at him.

‘I understand that there is nothing to fear, and that is precisely what I do fear: the great, black void at the end of life that swallows us all. You say this neverness is full of light. The Shining Ones, if we’re to believe you, say this in their gladness. Ah, all your books say it, too. But who, I ask you, has ever returned from the land of the dead to tell of it?’

Abrasax seemed to have no answer to this; for a moment he turned his attention to sipping his tea. Then his eyes grew hard and bright, and he called out: ‘Master Virang! Master Matai! Master Storr!’

He issued instructions for a repositioning of the tables and of everyone in the room. Atara, Estrella and Daj moved over to join the rest of our company at our two tables, while the Seven took their places with Masters Yasul and Nolashar at theirs. The artifacts still resting there were put back into the treasured ebony box – all except the ivory chess piece. This carved, ancient ‘king’, four inches long, Abrasax set precisely at the center of the table. Then he and the other masters once again brought forth their seven round crystals. They sat in a circle holding out these stones around the chess piece.

‘I must now say more about the Great Gelstei,’ Abrasax told us. ‘Is there anyone who does not remember the account of creation in the Beginnings?’

‘Do you mean,’ Daj piped in, ‘how the Ieldra sang the universe into existence?’

He beamed with pride at his recently acquired knowledge as Abrasax smiled and nodded his head at him. And then Abrasax said, ‘The account in the Saganom Elu is poetic and magisterial, and certainly true. But not all has been told there. Exactly how, we might ask, did the Ieldra bring the One’s design into its full flowering?’

He looked at Kane and added, ‘You must surely know.’

‘So – I have forgotten, if ever I did know.’

Abrasax smiled sadly, and then he told us that many books in the Brotherhood’s library contained knowledge as to this arcane subject. He related an amazing story, part of which had been revealed to my companions and me the year before in the amphitheater of the Urudjin outside of Tria: ‘Seven colors there are, and they create all the beauty of the world and all that we see. And the seven notes that we summon out of trumpet or mandolet ring out the melodies of all music. So with the seven Openers and the creation of the world. The gelstei that crystallized out of the primeval fire were infinitely greater than these little stones that we of the Brotherhood are privileged to keep. And they opened up all the infinite possibilities of life. For as the Ieldra sang, the great crystals vibrated like the strings of a harp, and brought into being and form all things.’

Maram gazed at the gelstei shining in the Masters’ hands. He asked, ‘Are you saying that these stones partake of the power of the mythical gelstei?’

‘They are not mythical,’ Abrasax told him. ‘They exist somewhere, out in the stars, beyond Agathad.’

‘But do they still have the power to create?’

‘Yes – and to uncreate. Even as these stones do.’

He nodded at Master Matai, whose red crystal lit up like a glowing demon’s eye. Then Master Virang’s stone, the Second, flared with an orange fire, and so with the other Masters’ gelstei in a progression of hues. As Abrasax’s clear stone spat out a fierce white light, the crystals all began pouring forth sound as well. It might have been called music, but the harsh tones and shrills that vibrated from the crystals filled the chamber with a terrible stridor more like a wail of death than a song. It built louder and ever more jangling upon ear and nerve until I felt compelled to throw my hands over my ears. I watched in amazement as the ivory of the chess piece seemed to lose its substance and began wavering in the candles’ soft light. And then, suddenly, with a skreak like breaking metal, it vanished into thin air.

‘Sorcery!’ Maram cried out. He moved over to the Masters’ table, and rudely wedged his body between Master Yasul and Master Storr. He ran his hand around the table’s bare surface where the chess piece had sat.

‘It’s gone!’ Daj cried out. ‘The king is gone – but where?’

‘Ah, gone into nothing,’ Maram muttered. ‘Into hell. It would seem it has been annihilated, like a man’s soul when life’s candle blows out.’

The seven Masters seemed to meditate upon their gelstei. And Abrasax said to Daj, and to Maram, ‘Wait.’

A few moments later, with a chiming like that of struck bells, the chess piece winked back into plain view. I sat blinking my eyes. Maram reached out to snatch it up with his fat fingers before it disappeared again.

‘More sorcery!’ he cried out. He gripped the carved ivory hard in his hand as if to reassure himself that it was real.

And Abrasax said to him, ‘Don’t be so sure you know what existence is – or isn’t.’

Maram waved his hand at this. ‘I think you must have somehow hidden from our sight what was there all along. And then caused us to see it once again.’

Abrasax held out his hand to take the chess piece from Maram as he shook his head. He showed us all the gleaming white king.

‘No, that was not the way of things,’ he said. ‘This, for a moment, was truly unmade. But our gelstei, being small, possess only a small power. We of the Seven possess even less. It is not the province of man to unmake things.’

‘So,’ Kane growled out. His black eyes seemed to grow even blacker, like two bits of neverness that might swallow up not only a chunk of carved ivory but entire worlds.

‘And it is not,’ Abrasax said, looking from Kane to Maram, ‘the province of the Elijin, or even the Galadin. To the Ieldra, and only to the Ieldra, is given the power to create and uncreate.’

‘I wish the Ieldra would just uncreate Angra Mainyu,’ Maram said. ‘And Morjin – and every other evil creature in the world.’

‘That is not the way of things, either,’ Abrasax told him, giving him back the chess piece. ‘The Ieldra, according to the One’s design, sing the universe into creation. But once it is created, no single part may be unmade. All is necessary. Nothing may be subtracted just because it seems to be hateful or bad.’

I sat watching Maram twirl the chess piece between his fingers, and I said, ‘If Morjin got his hands on those gelstei of yours, he’d try to use them to subtract us from the world. And much else that he hates.’

Abrasax nodded his head at this. ‘And with Angra Mainyu, it would be much worse. Once freed from Damoom, he would try to use the Lightstone to seize the greatest of the Great Gelstei and unmake the Ieldra themselves. He would, I think, fail. But out of his failure would come cataclysm and fire, and he would cause the Ieldra to have to destroy all things.’

I turned to look out the chamber’s windows up at the faraway stars. And I said, ‘But why? I don’t understand.’

‘I’m not sure I do either,’ Abrasax said with a heavy sigh. ‘At least not completely. It seems to me, though, that the Ieldra abide the evil of the world because out of it, sometimes, comes great good. But once all is fallen into darkness, forever, what would be the purpose of making everything suffer without redemption or end?’

What, indeed? I wondered, as I thought of my mother hanging all broken and bloody from a plank of wood.

As Maram continued playing with the chess piece, Abrasax looked at me and said, ‘I think we have an answer to both Sar Maram’s question and yours. If this king can return from the realm of the unmade, then so can a prince vanquish his fear of death – and so in dying, will not die. But only, I believe, with the help of the Maitreya.’

‘If you do believe that,’ I said to him, ‘then for love of the world help us to find him!’

At this, Master Storr’s fingers closed around his gelstei, and he said, ‘It is for love of the world – and much, much else – that we must be sure of you. Wine poured into a cracked cup not only is wasted but helps destroy the cup.’

‘I will not fail!’ I half-shouted at Master Storr.

‘Bold words,’ he said to me. ‘But what if you do fail?’

The room fell quiet as he and the others of the Seven sat regarding me. And then Master Okuth said, ‘If the Maitreya is slain or falls into Morjin’s hands, then we see no hope of Angra Mainyu ever being healed. And so no hope for Ea and all the other worlds of Eluru.’

‘The risk is great beyond measure,’ Master Virang said to me. ‘And not just to the world, but to yourself. If you fall into Morjin’s hands, or fall as his master did, then –’

‘But we have to take the chance!’ I cried out. ‘Or else we might as well be dead already!’

For a while everyone sat quite still. The smell of various teas steeping in hot water filled the air. Then Abrasax looked at me with unnerving percipience, and said, ‘Your manner, Valashu, the fire of your eyes, all you have dared and done – this bespeaks the attainment of the highest Valari ideal. And yet I think you find your valor in being drawn to that which you most dread.’

I said nothing as I tried to return his relentless gaze.

‘You would wish,’ he continued, ‘for others to see you as fearless, as you would like to see yourself. But you fear this neverness that Prince Maram has told of so terribly, don’t you?’

I could hardly look at him as I nodded my head and said, ‘Yes.’

‘And you fear, too,’ Abrasax said as the others of the Seven bent closer to me, ‘that Morjin will be the one to damn you to exile in this lightless land?’

Yes, yes, yes! And as I feared, so I hated; and as I hated, my heart ached with a black, bitter wrath that poisoned my blood and darkened everything I held inside as beautiful and good. How I longed to take a sword to this dreadful disease that consumed me! But I could not, as I might rid myself of a rotting limb, simply cut it out.

‘And most of all,’ Abrasax said, looking at me deeply, ‘you fear your hatred of Morjin.’

‘It is killing me!’ I called out.

The fury that poured out of me beat against Liljana, Master Juwain and the others sitting close to me with the force of a raging river. It caught up the seven Masters, as well. Their faces fell ashen and sick, and Master Storr gripped the edge of his table as if to keep himself from being swept away. And then Master Juwain placed his hand on the center of my back, and I drew in three long, deep breaths.

‘You see,’ Abrasax said to me, ‘your hate is a terrible thing, and we fear it, too.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I finally gasped out. ‘I would have done better to have been born a lamb or made a gelding!’

Abrasax’s smile was like a cold bucket of water splashed in my face. And he said, ‘Do not mistake lack of passion for virtue. We must celebrate all the passions, as we do life itself.’

‘Even hate?’

‘Yes, even that. The virtuous man is not one who doesn’t hate, but he who is in full control of it, as he is all his passions, directing it toward a good end – and by good means.’

I traded dark looks with Kane then, for Abrasax had pierced to the heart of the conundrum that tormented me. Then I looked back at the Grandmaster and said, ‘Too often it seems that if I don’t give back Morjin evil for evil, he’ll win. And if I do fight this way, evil will still win.’

‘It is difficult, I know,’ he told me. ‘But you must find the way to make use of these blazing passions of yours, even the ugly and evil inside yourself, toward a higher end – even as the One does in creating the world. Pour fire the wrong way against a lump of coal and it will burn up and crumble into ashes. Wield fire as the earth does, however, as the sun and stars do, and you will make a diamond. This self-creation is the path of the angels; it is their fundamental duty and test.’

He came over to my table to pour some tea into my cup, and his steady gaze seemed to remind me that I held the keys to two opposing kingdoms inside my heart: either the wild joy of life or the rage for death.

Master Storr, who had recovered from my carelessness, pointed his finger at me and said, ‘We’ve all felt this passion of Prince Valashu tonight. With it, in Tria, he slew a man. How long before he slays again?’

‘Never!’ I cried out inside the cold castle of my mind. And then, to Master Storr and the others, I said, ‘I have vowed never again to use the valarda this way. And Morjin lives because of this!’

It might have been more accurate to say that Morjin had survived our last battle because of my hesitation – or because I could no more control my gift than I could a thunderstorm.

‘It is strange that Morjin left Argattha at this time,’ Abrasax said to me. ‘Indeed, there is something very strange about your encounter with him. I must believe that it is for the best that you did not slay Morjin with this secret sword of yours. All my understanding of the Law of the One is that the valarda is to be used only for the highest of purposes.’

Yes, I thought, it should be. To sense in others their deepest desires, to dream their dreams, to share with them my own – how I had longed for this! Yet too often the valarda had been a curse. I felt my heart pressing up against my throat as I said, ‘All my life, I have suffered others’ passions. And now, it seems, I have learned to inflict mine upon them – even to slay.’

Abrasax regarded me a moment before saying, ‘Surely you must suspect that your sentiments and passions, as powerful as they are, are not sufficient to kill another person?’

I looked at him in alarm and waited for him to say more.

‘Haven’t you ever wondered,’ he asked me, ‘at the true nature of the valarda?’

‘Only as long as I could think and feel!’ I told him.

‘Then haven’t you ever sensed that your openness to others is only the beginning of openness to much more? Indeed, I believe it leads to the identity with others, ultimately with the entire world. As with the Maitreya.’

‘But I am not the Maitreya!’

‘No, you are not,’ he told me. ‘But already you have wielded some of the power that must be his. Through him would flow the great soul force, the deepest fires of the world. Such a force, Valashu, can be used either for great evil or great good.’

He went on to say that, ultimately, this angel fire could be used to destroy whole universes, as the Ieldra were sometimes forced to do, or to create new ones.

He finished speaking and poured himself yet another cup of tea. And I said, ‘If what you’ve told us is true, then the Maitreya would possess the valarda in much greater measure than I.’

‘Perhaps. But I should say rather than possessing the valarda, the Maitreya, in his essence, is valarda, for he would be as a window letting in the light of all things.’

Above us, the twelve round windows filled with the faint sheen of the stars. The dome above us seemed to catch the exhalations of the Seven as they looked at me.

‘The Maitreya,’ I said to Abrasax, and to everyone, ‘must be able to draw forth the light from the Cup of Heaven. And we must find him before Morjin does.’

Master Virang’s discipline was meditation, not mind-reading, but I sensed that he exactly echoed Abrasax’s thoughts as he asked me, ‘Do you seek the Shining One to keep Morjin from using the Lightstone or for more personal reasons?’

‘Both,’ I told him truthfully.

Two flames, I thought, burned inside my heart. The first was reddish-black, and would destroy me if I let it. The other flame was as blue as the sky and connected me to all the lights of the heavens.

‘If we are to help you, we must be sure of you,’ Master Storr told me again. ‘Sure, at least, that you can use the valarda for good, and not ill. Will you allow us to test this?’

I nodded my head as I looked at him. ‘If you must.’

‘Good,’ Master Storr said. ‘Then please stand up.’

I did as he asked, and moved off to the side of the tables beneath the chamber’s dome. The Seven gathered around me. Each of them held one of the Great Gelstei out toward my chest.

‘Ah, just don’t make him disappear,’ Maram called out from his cushion below me.

Abrasax smiled at this as his open hand showed a little colored sphere. So it was with Master Yasul, Master Matai and the others of the Seven. Each of them, especially Master Storr, gazed at me intently. I felt their eyes pierce me like hot needles at many places through my body. Their hands, now glowing with the radiance of their crystals, seemed to reach inside me and open me to the whirls of light up and down my spine.

‘It burns, does it not?’ Abrasax said to me. His eyes filled with concern for me even as his crystal flared with a white luster. ‘Your belly is where you feel it, isn’t it? All your hatred of the Red Dragon?’

Deep within my belly, down behind my navel, the red flame raged hot as molten stone. For a moment, I perceived it as Abrasax did: as red as burning blood and shot with streaks of orange darkening to black, like smoke. I sensed that it would soon kill me, if I let it.

‘There is a saying,’ Abrasax told me. ‘Words as old as the stars: “If you would be freed from burning, you must become fire.”’

With that, the crystals of the Seven glistened in a rainbow brilliance. Wheels of fiery light whirled along my spine in colors to match the hues pouring from their crystals. The red flame in my deepest part built hotter and hotter. It might, I knew, burn up the whole world with my hellish hate if I let it. It consumed me, now, almost, being drawn up into my chest with every beat of my heart. But there, too, gathered the other flame, pure and blue, like Arras and Solaru and the brightest of the stars.

If you would be freed from burning, you must become fire.

I closed my eyes then, and I felt the hot flickers of the red flame feed the blazing of the blue. I willed this to be. It grew brighter and brighter. I did. My whole being, out from my center into my arms and legs, feet and hands, fairly shimmered and sang with a surging new life. And then, in a rush of joy, a fountain of violet flame seemed to shoot up through my belly, heart and throat, flaring to pure white as it filled the bright, black spaces behind my eyes. For an endless moment I did disappear, into a fire so brilliant that it touched the whole world with an infinite light.

At last, I returned to myself. I sensed a quickness of breath and rushing blood inside Abrasax, and I opened my eyes to see as he did. And I gasped in astonishment. For the auras of the Seven and Atara and Kane, and all those in the room, impinged on each other, and flowed, swirled and shimmered in a cloud of light. This living radiance seemed to be drawn to me as water to an opening in the earth and to change hues as it brightened into a numinous and dazzling glorre. I drew my sword then, and held it pointing up toward the apex of the dome. Alkaladur, too, blazed with this perfect color.

‘Fire, indeed,’ Abrasax said.

Then he put away his gelstei, and so did Master Storr and the others, and the auras of everyone gathered there vanished from my sight. But my sword’s silustria continued burning with an ineffable flame.

‘Do you see?’ Abrasax said, to Master Virang and Master Storr. ‘Do you see? It is as Master Juwain told about Prince Valashu.’

Everyone watched as the glorre illuminating my sword slowly faded to a silvery sheen. I sheathed Alkaladur as I looked at Abrasax.

‘That is enough of testing for one night,’ he said, smiling at me.

Master Storr looked down at Maram swigging his tea and said, ‘But what of the others?’

‘Valashu is their leader,’ Abrasax told him. ‘As he goes, so go they. If he can overcome the worst of himself as he has here tonight, then I believe that they will, too.’

‘You speak of him,’ Master Storr said, eyeing me, ‘almost as if he is the Maitreya!’

‘No, Valashu is not the Shining One,’ he said. ‘But I believe their fates are interwoven, as threads in a tapestry. Surely it is upon the Prince of Elahad to lead the way to him. Do you agree, Master Matai?’

The Master Diviner, standing across from me, smiled at Abrasax. And then, in turn, as Abrasax queried the other masters, each of them gave his assent. Even Master Storr reluctantly nodded his head.

‘I suppose we must trust Valashu and his friends,’ he affirmed.

In the end, I thought, either one has faith in another or not.

‘Yes, we must trust them with all our power to trust,’ Abrasax said. ‘And give them all our help. All the signs point one way.’

‘Ah, but which way?’ Maram asked as he fingered his beard. ‘That is the question of the moment, is it not?’

Abrasax smiled at this, then called out, ‘Master Matai – will you show us the parchment?’

The Seven moved back over to the empty table, and my friends and I gathered around them. Master Matai produced a large, yellowed parchment, which he unrolled and laid upon the table for all of us to examine. On its glossy surface were inscribed a great circle and various symbols marking the position of the planets and stars at the hour of my birth. It was, I saw, a copy of my horoscope, which Master Sebastian of the school in Mesh had prepared scarcely a year before.

Master Matai ran his finger over a hornlike glyph representing the sign of the Ram, and he said, ‘As Master Sebastian and Master Juwain elucidated in Mesh, Valashu’s horoscope is nearly identical with that of Godavanni. Valashu’s stars, as they determined, are those of a Maitreya.’

‘Then you should not blame him,’ Maram half-shouted, ‘for having believed that he might be the Maitreya!’

Master Matai shot him a sharp look and shook his head to silence him. And then he went on: ‘As we say, the stars impel; they do not compel. There are always other signs. And there are other stars.’

‘I’m afraid I still don’t understand,’ Master Juwain said, resting his elbows on the table to examine the horoscope, ‘where Master Sebastian went wrong.’

‘That is because he didn’t,’ Master Matai said. ‘On all of Ea, there is hardly a better diviner, especially when it comes to astrology. No, Master Sebastian made no error, at least of commission. But it must be said that an omission has been made, and a critical one at that.’

So saying, he brought forth a second parchment and unrolled it on top of mine.

‘Always, at the end of ages, the Maitreyas are born,’ he told us. ‘And at the end of this age, the last age that will give birth to the Age of Light, or so we hope, the stars are so strong. I have studied this for years, and for years I believed the Maitreya’s star would rise over the Morning Mountains. But I have found a brighter one that rose in another land. Twenty-two years ago, now, at the same time that the Golden Band flared as it never had before and has done only once since.’

I glanced at the date that Master Matai had inked onto the parchment: the ninth of Triolet in the year 2792 – the same day as my birth.

Master Juwain studied the symbols inscribed in the great circle, and he asked, ‘And for which land has this horoscope been prepared?’

‘Hesperu. In the Haraland, in the north, somewhere below the mountains, to the east of Ghurlan but west of the Rhul River.’

‘Hesperu!’ I wanted to cry out. I could think of few lands of Ea so far away, and none so difficult to reach.

‘But we can’t journey there!’ Maram bellowed. ‘It’s impossible!’

‘So, it would be difficult, not impossible,’ Kane said, his eyes gleaming.

He went on to tell us that we could complete our transit of the White Mountains and cross the vast forest of Acadu. And then choose between two routes: the southern one through the Dragon Kingdoms, or the northern route across the Red Desert.

‘Oh, excellent!’ Maram said. ‘Then we’ll have our choice between being put up on crosses or dying of thirst in the desert.’

I turned to look at Maram. I didn’t want him to frighten the children – and himself.

‘But think, Val!’ he said to me. ‘Even if the Maitreya was born in Hesperu, he might long since have gone elsewhere. Or been taken as a slave or even killed. It’s madness, I say, to set out to the end of the earth solely according to another astrological reckoning.’

I waited for the blood to leave his flushed face, and then I asked him, ‘But what else can we do?’

‘Ah, I don’t really know,’ he muttered. ‘Why must we do anything? And if we do do something, wouldn’t it be enough to work in concert with the Brotherhood? Surely the Grandmaster has alerted the schools in Hesperu to look for the Maitreya. Let them find him, I say.’

Master Juwain looked over his shoulder at Maram and asked him, ‘Have you forgotten Kasandra’s prophecy?’

‘You mean, that Val would find the Maitreya in the darkest of places?’

Hesperu, I thought, under the terror of King Arsu and the Kallimun, no less Morjin, seemed just about the darkest place on Ea.

‘There is more that you should know,’ Master Matai said as he pressed his finger against one of the symbols inked onto the parchment. ‘The Maitreya’s star, I believe, will burn brightly but not long.’

I looked at Maram as he looked at me. Sometimes decisions are made not in the affirmation of one’s lips but in the silence of the eyes.

‘But we’ll die reaching Hesperu!’ he moaned. ‘Oh, too bad, too bad!’

And with that he hammered his fist on the table behind him hard enough to rattle the teacups and to shake from them a few dark, amber drops. ‘Why can’t I have at least one glass of brandy before I’m reduced to worm’s meat? Are there no spirits in this accursed place?’

‘There are those that you carry inside your hearts,’ Abrasax told him with a smile.

Maram waved his thick hand at Abrasax’s attempt to encourage him, and he turned toward me. ‘Can’t you see it, Val? It’s madness, this new quest of ours, damnable and utter madness!’

‘Then you must be mad, too,’ I told him, ‘to be coming with us.’

‘Am I coming with you? Am I?’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘Ah, of course I am, damn it! And that’s the hell of it, isn’t it? How could I ever desert you?’

We returned to our original tables then. Abrasax began a long account of how one of the ancient Maitreyas, on another world during the age-old War of the Stone, had sung to a star called Ayasha to keep it from dying in a blaze of light. We drank many cups of tea. Finally, it grew late. Through one of the windows, I saw the stars of the Dragon descending toward the west. And yet Kane still sat spellbound as he listened to Abrasax’s flowing voice, and so did Daj and Estrella. But whereas Kane could remain awake for nights on end, and perhaps longer, the children began yawning with their need for sleep.

‘I think that is enough for one night,’ Abrasax said. He closed the crystal-paged book from which he had been reading. I sheathed my sword, and my companions hid away their gelstei. ‘Tomorrow you must begin preparing for a long journey, and we must help you.’

He turned to look at Atara, Daj and Estrella, and all the rest of us, one by one. At last he rested his gaze on me. ‘I believe with all my heart that you will find the Maitreya, as has been prophesied. And I also believe that what will befall then will be ruled by your heart. Remember, Valashu, creation is everything. It is what we were born for.’

He stood up slowly, and stepped over to the pedestal holding up the cup of silver gelstei. After lifting it with great care, he brought it back to our table and set it down. And then he enjoined us: ‘Escort the Shining One back to us, here, and we shall help him, too. We shall place this in his hands, if not the true gold. And then we shall see who is truly master of the Lightstone.’

After that we went back to our hostels to rest. For hours I lay awake with my hand on the hilt of Alkaladur, by the side of my bed. A bright flame still blazed inside me. I wanted to pass it on like a strengthening elixir to Atara, sleeping in the little house next to mine, and to Estrella, Liljana, and everyone. I couldn’t help hoping that we might bring something beautiful into creation, even though I knew that before us lay an endless road of blood, destruction and death.