Читать книгу Ironcrown Moon: Part Two of the Boreal Moon Tale - Julian May - Страница 11

‘The name of the owner and the date of his ordination,’ Sulkorig explained. ‘He was one of those heroes who attempted to rescue the Royal Alchymist after the tarnblaze explosions took place.’

Snudge pocketed the pendant. ‘I’ll give this to His Grace. He’ll surely wish to commemorate the bravery of this man, who gave up his own life for Lord Stergos. Can you tell me anything about him?’

Sulkorig watched stoically as two white-faced young novices finished loading the nearly fleshless, contorted corpse onto a litter and covered it with a sheet. ‘Take him to the old laboratory and lay him out with the others, lads. You need do no more work today.’

‘Yes, Brother Keeper.’ The pair shuffled off with their grisly burden.

‘Vra-Vitubio was a visitor to Cala,’ Sulkorig said to Snudge, ‘one of three historians come down from Zeth Abbey to do research in our library. I myself know little about him, but doubtless his companions can tell us all that the High King requires for the commemoration.’

‘Doubtless,’ Snudge said through clenched teeth. ‘Do you know the names of the others?’

“Vra-Felmar Nightcott and Vra-Scarth Saltbeck. It appears that they were also among those who tried to rescue Lord Stergos, but were unable to find him in the smoke. Neither one was seriously hurt.’

‘Would you do me the great favor of windspeaking the two right now, and ask them to present themselves to Lord Telifar, His Grace’s secretary?’

Sulkorig’s brows rose in surprise, but he pulled off a glove and covered his eyes with his hand. After a couple of minutes had passed, he regarded Snudge with a puzzled expression. ‘Neither man responds. I consulted our infirmarian, and they are not among those recuperating from injuries.’

‘I didn’t think they would be! Vra-Sulkorig, you know that I am the king’s man, and that I undertake to perform certain privy services for him. I must tell you something now in strictest confidence. His Grace suspects that those two Brothers and their dead comrade were responsible for this terrible conflagration.’

‘My God! Why should they do such a thing?’ ‘In order to steal certain valuable arcane objects belonging to Lord Stergos. I was not in the city at the time of the disaster. Please tell me what you know of the sequence of events here.’

The first explosion had occurred at about eight in the morning, at a time when most residents of the palace were still sleeping off the night’s festivities, so as to be well rested for the events scheduled later on Midsummer Day. The Brothers were free to do as they chose, but many of them – including the Royal Alchymist – attended the usual communal breakfast in the refectory at the sixth hour.

Stergos would ordinarily have gone to his office at the far end of the cloister wing after eating and dealt with his correspondence. But on this holiday, with the scribes and secretaries excused from duty, he told his assistant Sulkorig that he would return to his own quarters for a time, since he had much to meditate upon. When the first tarnblaze explosion blew open the outer door of the Alchymical Library, Stergos was among the stacks, searching for a book dealing with the thaumaturgical history of the Salka race.

The concussion toppled many of the free-standing bookshelves. One of them caught Stergos by the lower leg, trapping him. He began to cry for help and became aware of agitated shouts in the exterior corridor. Then, as he later told Vra-Sulkorig, red-robed figures moved into the smoke-filled chamber. As yet there was no widespread fire. A reassuring voice called out from not far away, apparently trying to locate him among the jumble of fallen stacks. Stergos answered, but heard nothing further for some minutes save the tolling of the alarm bell mounted outside the library door and a single youthful voice – perhaps the bellringer – screaming for help.

What happened next was so appalling that Stergos nearly fainted from shock. First came a sound of persons running. The smoke, which had the typical sulphurous stench of tarnblaze, had thickened and it was getting harder for him to breathe. Then a tremendous blast emanated from his own rooms on the far side of the library, causing more shelves to crash and shaking the edifice to its foundations. He’d left the apartment door open when he came out to fetch the book, and even through the smoke he could see a huge gout of flame belch out of his sitting room and set the library furnishings – and his own clothing – afire.

He cried out with the last of his strength, then succumbed to oblivion until he awoke in the King’s Suite and bespoke his story to Sulkorig, who later pieced together certain missing details by questioning witnesses.

Earlier, the novice who had been hauling hysterically on the bell cord was joined by another young Brother with more initiative. Shortly before the second explosion occurred, the two of them decided to attempt to rescue the unknown victim who was trapped in the library and calling out. They pulled down arras from the corridor wall and wrapped themselves, as protection against the fire within, and together plunged into the smoke.

Instantly, they were bowled over by two Brothers dashing out of the library and crying, ‘Run! Run for your lives!’ Then came the horrendous second blast, and the fast-spreading inferno. In a small miracle, the roaring flames seemed to diminish the thickness of the smoke momentarily. The two rescuers caught sight of Stergos engulfed in fire. They used an arras to beat it down, then dragged the Royal Alchymist to safety.

By then the corridor was thronged with men in red robes, members of the Palace Guard trying without success to restore order, and a few servants bearing containers of water, who doused the burned man and his scorched saviors.

‘Everyone on the scene assumed that the two Brothers who had emerged from the library a few minutes earlier were would-be rescuers who lost heart and fled,’ Vra-Sulkorig concluded. ‘Someone recognized them as they pushed through the crowd and tried to ask them questions. But they were coughing and moaning, and soon vanished amidst the commotion. By then the flames had spread to other parts of the cloister wing, and the residents were fleeing.’

Snudge stood over the spot where the corpse had lain. ‘Do you see, Brother Keeper? He had come only a few ells from Lord Stergos’s apartment door. He must have been the last one to run out of there before the second explosion happened. The fireball roasted him in mid-stride.’

‘Blessed Zeth,’ Sulkorig muttered. ‘May heaven grant him mercy.’

Snudge suspected there was scant chance of that.

‘Sir Deveron!’ The armiger Valdos called out from somewhere inside the ruined apartment. ‘You must come in here and see this! But beware. Some of the roof beams are sagging and may collapse at any minute.’

Snudge entered, trailed by the Keeper. Fallen timbers lay everywhere in precarious tangles, some still smoldering in spite of the continuing downpour. Blackened and broken containers of ceramic or glass had survived, but all of the furnishings were ashes, and the beautiful hardwood floor that he remembered from his clandestine invasion of Kilian’s quarters four years earlier was entirely burned away, leaving the same flagstone underpavement that was visible in the library.

Valdos stood just inside the doorframe of what had been the Royal Alchymist’s bedroom. The rear wall, made of closely fitted granite blocks, bore an irregular stain of yellowish-white at least five feet in diameter, surrounded by a halo of soot.

‘I believe that the second explosion involved two bombshells, set off simultaneously,’ Vra-Sulkorig noted. ‘In my early life I was a soldier, and I’ve seen such things before. Perhaps the fire-raisers had intended to blast open the door to Lord Stergos’s apartment. When they found it unlocked, they used both bombs inside.’

But Snudge’s attention was elsewhere.

In the middle of this room, where the bed had once stood, was a square area of newly exposed floor that measured some three ells by four. Instead of stone, it was covered over with rusted iron plates that were bulging and distorted by heat. At one end, a pair of plates on hinges had dropped open like trapdoors, revealing a hole partially clogged by debris from the fire. Stone steps led down from the bedroom level into a kind of cellar…or crypt.

‘Codders!’ Snudge whispered.

He crossed the room with the greatest care, squatted gingerly, and peered into the opening. The underground chamber was about three ells deep and awash at the bottom with water in which floated bits of burned material. At the far end were two sizable objects of roughly hewn stone with heavy lids. They looked like tombs. In front of them stood a warped iron framework like a skeletal cabinet or chest that still held a few slabs of charred wood.

The iron thing had a tantalizing familiarity.

Then he knew what he must be seeing. Using his pike as a staff, he descended the steps into the crypt.

‘It was the remains of Kilian’s small oaken storage cabinet, sire. The one I had discovered in his sanctum, bound with iron bands and fitted with the peculiar lock that almost defeated my attempt to pick it. Its doors or what was left of them – were wide open.’ He reached into his belt-wallet and placed a discolored metal mechanism on the king’s desk. ‘I found this in the dirty water down around the tombs. But there was no trace of the sigils that had been stored in that cabinet – more than a hundred of them – nor the small moonstone medallions that were fastened to the covers of the two large books that I left behind with the sigils.’

Conrig took up the lock and turned it slowly in his hands. ‘Someone knew how to work it,’ Snudge said. ‘It’s undamaged. And open.’

The draperies of the study windows were drawn against the grey twilight and the wrenching sight of the ruined library and cloister wing across the quadrangle gardens. It was around the tenth hour after noon and still raining steadily, although the thunder and lightning had passed.

‘So now we are certain,’ the king said. ‘The trove is gone. Stolen.’

‘I fear so, sire. I learned some time ago that the two ancient books were transcribed in the Salkan language. Like the smaller one that I took away, they contained pictures of different sigils. I can only presume that the books held expanded descriptions of their varied uses, along with spells of activation.’

‘Including that of your own Concealer sigil that was…lost during the assault on Mallmouth Bridge?’ The Sovereign’s tone was dry.

‘I never noticed, sire. Since the larger books were illegible to me, I paid them scant attention. Concealer was certainly depicted in the smaller book, which had much of its content written in an old version of our own tongue. That’s why I stole it. But Concealer’s activating spell, like all others in the little book, was written in Salkan. And I must emphasize that correct pronunciation is absolutely critical for bringing a sigil to life. I was told by Beynor himself that saying the words wrong would anger the Beaconfolk and cause them to kill me. So he pretended to coach me – while actually plotting my death. Lord Stergos and I believe that Kilian also knew the peril of mispronouncing the spells. This was why he formed an alliance with the Crown Prince of Moss and agreed to share the stones, in exchange for Beynor’s expertise in the Salkan language. The Glaumerie Guild knows how to bring sigils to life, and Beynor belongs to the Guild, as do all members of Moss’s Royal Family. Kilian evidently had no suspicion that there might be another, simpler way to activate sigils – merely by touching them to the moonstone disks mounted on the book covers.’

‘You never told me that.’ Conrig looked at Snudge narrowly,

For good reason, Snudge thought. There was more to the brief activation process as well, which he would never divulge to the king. ‘It slipped my mind, sire. And of course I was forced to give the little book to Ansel Pikan shortly after I took it.’

‘God only knows what he might have done with it! You and Stergos were both fools not to have kept it safe.’

Snudge said nothing. The Royal Alchymist would have destroyed both the book and the Concealer if he had been able to. He believed their magic to be inherently evil and corrupting to the user. Belatedly, Snudge had come to the same conclusion. For this reason he had hidden Concealer away after the Battle of Mallmouth Bridge, telling the king it was lost in the fray. He had not attempted to use it since.

Conrig’s brief flash of anger vanished and he smiled. ‘Ignore my ill temper. I fret about my poor brother. Although the leeches say he’ll recover, he will carry terrible scars.’

‘Then his sight was spared? I was afraid –’

‘God be thanked, his vision is normal in spite of the burns about his eyes.’ Conrig poured amber malt liquor into his favorite cup, which was silver with a gold-lined bowl and a great amethyst set into the stem as a talisman against poison. ‘Will you drink with me?’

‘I thank you, sire.’ Snudge took a crystal goblet from a sideboard and accepted a small amount of the spirits.

‘Please be seated,’ Conrig said. Both of them tasted the malt, which was smooth and fiery. ‘I have a mission for you, one that will take you far from Cathra.’ He held up his hand as Snudge attempted to speak. ‘No, it has nothing to do with the pursuit of the thieves, although it may be possible for you to join the hunt for them as you journey north on this other matter. I already have three thousand men searching for the fugitives, and pictures of them provided by Vra-Edzal were transmitted by wind hours ago to every corner of Cathra. By tomorrow, the local adepts will have drawn up numbers of posters with images of the two rogue Brothers and nailed them up in every city and town.’

Snudge nodded and waited.

Conrig said, ‘As for this special assignment: there is no other person I can entrust it to, for it involves a challenge to my own perilous secret.’

‘Your talent.’

‘Aye, my accursèd talent, that would deny me my Crown of Sovereignty –’

‘And perhaps give it to Duke Feribor,’ Snudge blurted, ‘unless the Queen’s Grace should be delivered of a normal-minded son.’

Conrig sighed. ‘She carries a normal child, but it is a girl. Queen Ullanoth was kind enough to confirm this fact for me.’

Snudge lowered his eyes at the disappointing news.

‘At yesterday’s feast,’ the king went on, ‘the earl marshal told me of a very disturbing rumor that apparently circulates in north-western Tarn among the local fishermen. It popped up only recently, and its gist is that my first wife may still be alive.’

‘Sire, that can’t be!’ Snudge exclaimed. ‘I windsearched for Princess Maudrayne myself when she flung herself from the parapet at Eagleroost – and for months thereafter. The Brothers of Zeth also combined their talents to sweep the entire island for traces of her. So did the Conjure-Queen, using her Great Stone Subtle Loophole.’

‘Ansel’s sorcery probably could have concealed Maude from all of you with ease. Tarnian shamans are the most powerful natural talents in the world. Consider also the disturbing fact that her personal maid Rusgann Moorcock unaccountably vanished without a trace. The woman was devoted to Maude, as if she were her own sister…And there’s worse, which I’ve never confided to you.’ He took a deep pull of the malt liquor and hesitated.

‘Your Grace?’

‘Ah, shite,’ muttered the king. ‘You must know. Stergos and I found Maude’s diary. In it, she wrote that she knew of my talent and would not hesitate to expose it if I persisted in my amorous attachment to the Conjure-Queen. She also wrote that she had told Ansel my secret. And the diary held still another surprise: Maude was pregnant with my child.’

‘Great God! And yet she said naught to you!’ Snudge was both baffled and horrified. ‘She signed the bill of divorcement. And was willing to take her own life and that of the unborn babe…’

‘A woman of fierce Tarnian passions. How we once loved one another, Snudge! But for six years it seemed she could not conceive, and the shame of it made her anxious and short-tempered. Meanwhile, I was absorbed in the struggle with my late father and the Privy Council, and had small time for the loving attentions that such a high-spirited woman demands of her mate.’

Snudge had only taken a few sips from his goblet, but he now downed a generous swig. A sense of foreboding had begun to grip his heart. He knew Conrig’s terrible dilemma concerning Maude and the child – and feared what his own role might be in its resolution.

The king said, ‘The Princess Dowager is capable of a hatred as deep as her love once was. If she lives, and if her child lives and is a son, he is my legitimate successor. He was conceived in wedlock. The divorce is irrelevant. Add to this Maude’s knowledge of my talent –’ He shook his head, tossed down the last of his drink, and refilled the cup.

Snudge said, ‘You wish me to go to Tarn and find out the truth. But that may be impossible, if she’s protected by Ansel’s sorcery. Even though my windsearching talent is considerable, it has limitations that I’m only beginning to understand. I met Red Ansel Pikan and he’s more powerful than I can ever hope to be. Furthermore, he’s in league with some supernatural entity he calls his Source, who guides him like a puppet. We know so little of the shamans of Tarn, sire! They’re said to be directly descended from the Green Men, who shared this island with other inhuman monsters before Bazekoy’s conquest –’

‘Anent that point, let me tell you something else you may not know!’ the king hissed. ‘Green blood also taints thee and me, Deveron Austrey – and every human being possessed of talent, for this is how our magical abilities were instilled in us!’

‘Oh, sire –’

‘But that matters naught. The only important thing is that you find Maude and her babe – if they do live – before their existence is revealed to the world. And when you find them, do what must be done to protect me and my Sovereignty from the danger they pose.’

Snudge held the king’s gaze. ‘You wish me to slay them.’

‘I did not say that. If you’re able to eliminate their threat in another way, then do so. You are my sworn man, Deveron Austrey. Do you accept this charge?’

Snudge set his unfinished drink on the polished wood of the royal desk and rose to his feet. ‘I will carry it out as best I can, Your Grace.’

‘That’s no answer.’ Conrig’s voice was low and harsh.

‘It’s mine, sire.’

Their eyes remained locked, but the Sovereign of Blenholme was the one who finally blinked and looked away. ‘I fear her more than Kilian and Beynor,’ he whispered, ‘more than Ullanoth, more than all the scheming rebels of Didion and Tarn and the Southern Shore combined.’

‘I know. Let me see what I can do.’

Conrig sat still, staring at nothing. Then he gave a small start and seemed to pull himself together. When he spoke it was with his usual forcefulness. ‘Tomorrow, seek out Parlian Beorbrook and tell him your mission. I trust the earl marshal absolutely – as must you, since he also knows of your talent. Ask his advice. He understands the barbarians of the north country better than any man in Cathra, since he and his family have defended our border against them for nearly three hundred years. He may be able to lend you guides from his troop of Mountain Swordsmen to assist your penetration of Tarn. Whatever else you need, you shall have.’

‘I desire that my friend Sir Gavlok Whitfell may accompany me on this mission, along with our armigers and Vra-Mattis, my apprentice windvoice. Gavlok and Mattis, at least, must know at the outset that we seek Maude and her child. The squires can be kept in ignorance until we reach Tarn. Since Lord Stergos is too ill to receive windspeech from me or Mat, I recommend that Vra Sulkorig, the Keeper of Arcana, relay messages in his place. He will also have to be taken into your confidence – at least partially.’

‘Very well, but none of these people must ever know of my talent, even though we have to tell them about yours. The danger posed by a son of Maude to the Cathran succession is sufficient justification for your search.’

‘I’ll be prudent when reporting, sire.’

‘As you make your way north, I also desire you to wind-search for the two thieves. Your natural ability along that line is probably greater than that of anyone else in Cathra.’

‘But Cathra is a large nation,’ Snudge protested, ‘and we can’t be sure which route the two outlaws have taken. If they head directly to Zeth Abbey and Kilian, I might have a chance of scrying them out. But perhaps they went in some other direction entirely, or even escaped in a ship. They might be under orders to hide the trove in some remote spot where Kilian will retrieve it later.’

‘Let’s hope not,’ the king said, looking glumly into his cup.

‘Your Grace, you must think about the wisdom of asking Queen Ullanoth for help. There’s danger – but if she finds the two men with her Loophole, you can send pursuers straight to them. You don’t have to tell her what the villains stole – only that they attempted to kill Lord Stergos. As soon as the trove is located, it must be destroyed. This is the only safe course. Lord Stergos knows it, and so do you. Inactive moonstones can be crushed without danger and rendered useless. We may presume that the book-medallions can be destroyed in a similar manner, and the pages burnt.’

Conrig groaned at the prospect, and Snudge knew that his niggling suspicions about the king were correct. He still toyed with the notion of using the things himself.

‘I must think about what to do,’ Conrig said. ‘If Ulla somehow seizes the trove…’

‘That’s why the stones must be smashed and the books burnt, sire,’ Snudge emphasized. ‘To keep them from her, from Kilian, and from Beynor.’

‘Yet I must be sure in my mind that I’ve made the right decision. I’ll take one more day to think on it further, for I’m so weary now that my wits fail me. Leave here tomorrow at an early hour, but only after conferring with Earl Marshal Parlian. Travel to Tarn via the Great North Road and the Wold Road through Frost Pass. Break your first day’s journey at Teme, and I will then tell you my decision about consulting Ullanoth. You may go now.’

Snudge bowed. “Very well, sire.’ He turned and started for the door.

‘One final thing,’ the king said. ‘I know you told me that your Concealer sigil was lost. I’m also aware of your deep misgivings about moonstone magic. But if it should happen that your sigil were found…I’d be most grateful if you’d use it once again in my service.’

Snudge stiffened, but he refrained from turning back to meet the king’s eyes. ‘I doubt it will ever be found, Your Grace. But be assured I’ll do everything in my power to carry out my duties faithfully.’