Glenda Larke - The Heart of the mirage

'I'm sure this must be much prettier.' I peered at the first of the tablets. 'I'm not sure it's going to be easier, though. Garis, this is all written in Kardi.'

'Of course! What did you expect?'

T didn't expect anything,' I confessed. 'But I don't read Kardi well, and this stuff is archaic -' Laboriously, I began to spell out the words, hesitating and stumbling over unfamiliar letters. 'And where is – no, whereas thou who shalt thine eyes – It'll take me a week to read all this, and then I'm not sure I'll understand it.'

No sooner had I made the complaint than the language on the tablets changed, and I was reading good modern Tyranian. Ah, now that's more like it,' I said. 'And you who read this -'

Garis looked taken aback. 'I hope the Mirage Makers remember to change it to Kardi again,' he said finally. 'Korden would have a fit if he ever found out the Covenant was written in Tyranian!'

I read silently on.

Part of what was there – the reasons for the necessity of such a covenant – I knew already because Temellin had told me. The first tablet related the story of how the Mirage Makers and the Magor had been hurting one another with their different forms of mirage-making, and how this Covenant had been drawn up to solve the problem.

It seemed to me, as I read the second, third and fourth tablets, that the Magor had been the recipients of the better end of the bargain: they'd acquired the Magor swords and, through the swords, the cabochons, which enhanced their power. At the same time, the Mirage Makers promised they'd take every care their mirage-making would not harm people, whether Magor or not. In order to ensure there were no accidental deaths as a result of their mirages, the Mirage Makers would withdraw to the land beyond the Shiver Barrens. In Return, the Magor promised not to indulge in mirage-making anywhere in any form, and not to cross the Shiver Barrens. And they were to take a solemn oath, generation after generation, that their powers were not to be used for personal gain. They were to use their enhanced abilities to better the life of the non-Magor or to heal those in need; they could use their powers to protect their land, but never in the pursuit of wholly selfish motives. The Mirager was to be obliged to take an additional oath that he would always act with the consensus of the majority of his Magoroth peers.

The fifth tablet made it clear that if any of the rules mentioned on the preceding three tablets were broken

by the Magor, then future generations would not receive their swords or cabochons – which raised an interesting conundrum: the Magor now not only lived in the Mirage, but had brought ordinary Kardis here. Why, then, were the newly born still receiving their cabochons; why were the adolescent Magoroth still receiving their swords? The Covenant had been broken from the moment Solad had sent the ten Magoroth children and their teachers across the Shiver Barrens – yet the Covenant was still in force.

I stood for a long while in front of that tablet, and the conclusion I came to was as unpalatable as it was inescapable. The Mirage Makers had needed something further from the Magor, something they knew the Magor would normally deny them, something they needed so badly they had struck a new covenant with Solad to get it. Paradoxically, in so doing, the old covenant had doubtless been broken a second time: Solad had acted without the consensus of his peers. And the Mirage Makers had done nothing about that, either…

I knew then that my reasoning had been right. Temellin knew what the new covenant was. And so did I. An unborn child in exchange for safety. Nothing else made sense.

I turned away from the tablet, afraid.

At least, I thought cynically, I could tell Brand that what kept the powerful Magor from the kind of corruption found among the rulers of the Exaltarchy wasn't entirely the kind of altruism he may have imagined. The Magor were scared that their children – that all future generations of Magor – would be denied cabochons and swords if they, the parents, misbehaved. Human nature being what it is, there would always be the odd individual who would misuse his or her

powers, but the cost was high enough that others would soon unite against them. Not such a bad idea; the Mirage Makers had been deviously clever.

I turned to Garis. 'Let's go,' I said. 'I've read it all.'

'And do you understand it?'

'Yes, I think so. Seems fairly straightforward to me.' It wasn't the Covenant that was confusing; it was the events of recent years concerning it.

Back in the hall beyond the cavern, the Magoroth were waiting for us. When the doors swung open again, we faced Temellin once more. He looked not at me, but at Garis. 'Has the Magoria read and understood the Tablets of the Covenant?'

'She has,' he replied.

Temellin turned to me. 'Then do you solemnly swear not to indulge in mirage-making, and not to use your powers for personal gain or in pursuit of selfish motives? Do you solemnly swear to use your enhanced abilities to protect the land of Kardiastan and to better the life of the people you serve? Do you solemnly swear that once it is safe for us to leave the Mirage, you will do so, never to return, and you will do everything in your power to protect the Mirage from violation? Do you swear to uphold the decisions of your Mirager, as sanctioned by the majority of his peers?

'If you are prepared to swear these things, place your left hand on the hilt of your sword and say: I do so swear.'

It should have been easy to say. I'd made up my mind, hadn't I? I'd chosen Kardiastan over Tyrans, Temellin over Favonius, the Magor over the Brotherhood.

But now, faced with Temellin's love, the ache I saw and felt in him as he stretched out my sword to me, the words were hard to enunciate. There was an

irrevocability about them – and I, who had once found it so easy to utter a falsehood or practise a deception, knew this time I could only speak the truth, although it might not have been quite the same truth everyone else in that hall envisioned.

I stretched out my hand and closed it about the hilt. My cabochon slipped into its place and the sword flamed; I could feel the power throbbing.

'Yes,' I said, and committed myself to a land, to a new way of life. 'I do so swear.'

And the Magoroth, as one, cried, 'Fah-Ke-Cabochon-rez\ Hail the power of the cabochon!'

I had thought it would be easy enough to tell Temellin the truth about my life in Tyrans.

It wasn't.

For a start, I never seemed to have the opportunity. I saw him often enough, that day and in the ones that followed. I usually ate in the dining hall with the other Magoroth; I attended all the Magor meetings held to discuss the strategies to be adopted against Tyrans and he was always there – but I never saw him alone. He was always surrounded by others, listening to what they had to say with his head cocked to one side in a way now so familiar to me; or talking, moving his hands to illustrate a point; or laughing and carrying others along on his amusement. He spoke to me often, asking my opinion, including me in the discussions, inquiring after my progress with my study of Magor skills.

But never alone.

When I went to him to let him know I wanted a private conversation, he turned from me and draped a friendly arm around Pinar's shoulders. 'Do you know Pinar is a cousin, Shirin?' he asked, not looking at me. 'Her mother and our parents were siblings. We intend

to marry as soon as the necessary arrangements are made.'

Pinar smiled pleasantly. 'I hope we'll be friends, Shirin.'

'I'm sure we have no reason not to be,' I replied, my voice smooth with deliberate blandness. They both heard my lie, of course, just as Temellin and I had heard hers. And when I turned away a litde later, with my intended request still unspoken, I caught the look in Temellin's eyes: pure, aching hunger – and I wondered how much Pinar would tolerate if she ever saw that look.