Glenda Larke - The Heart of the mirage

but not quite the same way. Not any more. You are Magor and you are not for me. I can go forward now. You suggested once I go to Altan, that I help free it from Tyrans, do you remember? I thought the idea ridiculous. Now I'm not so sure. I have become a soldier and find I have some talent for the life. I have found I can lead men, and do it well. So, I shall go back to Altan and try my luck.'

I grinned at him, my depression lifting. 'I'm glad. So very glad. Although I shall miss you more than I can possibly say.'

He returned the grin, but our mutual mood of complacent self-congratulation was short-lived. We had been sitting side by side on the pallet but a sudden heave underneath us sent us both sprawling.

'What the -?' Brand began, but words failed him as he struggled up. We were in the middle of a softly padded pallet the size of a small room. The tent was gone. In its place was a large hall containing a fireplace, complete with a fire, and a table cluttered with objects as diverse as a loaf of bread and a weathervane. Beyond the table, a startled bird ruffled its black feathers and tried to maintain its perch on a pump handle. There was no pump to go with it.

I began to laugh.

'Vortex take it, woman,' Brand growled. 'It's not funny – this damn land will be the death of me! One day my heart will simply not survive the arrival of one of these mirages!'

I continued to giggle helplessly.

'You'd better give some thought to what your Stalwart friends are going to think about this,' he said sourly.

I stifled my laughter. T imagine they will get a shock. Never mind, I shall- go outside and ward the

place; then they won't be able to disturb us.' I picked up my sword and, still chuckling, looked around for a door. Fortunately, there was one.

Favonius arrived before I had finished, and other legionnaires began to gather as well, just to stare at the building, until he sent them on their way with shouted orders. When they had gone, he waved an agitated hand at the structure behind me. 'What is this? Where did it come from? Why can't we enter?'

'This world doesn't work the same way as Tyrans, Favo.'

'Did you do this?'

I stared at him in unfeigned surprise. 'Come now, Favo, when have I ever been able to conjure a building out of nothing?' What had prompted him to say that? I stirred uneasily, and remembered their orders. Kill all women with gemstones in the middle of their hands. That had come from Bator Korbus and Rathrox, of course, with their memories of the early invasions and the Magoroth victories.

I put my left hand behind me and changed the subject. 'Tell me, did you inform the Legate of what I said earlier tonight?'

T did. We are not retreating.'

'That's a mistake. You had better prepare yourself for more trouble.'

'Damn it, Ligea, just whose side are you on here? Give us some help! What can we do to combat this kind of sorcery?'

'I came here to offer you the only kind of help I can give you: good advice. This is a war you can't win. Turn back.'

'There must be something we can do to – to defend ourselves. Counter-spells perhaps…' He looked as if he couldn't quite believe what he was saying.

'There is nothing.'

'I don't understand you. You're acting as if your loyalties are to Kardiastan, not Tyrans. Tell us, at least, how to cross the Shiver Barrens. Then – win or lose – we won't have to cross those Vortex-scoured Alps again.'

'Favo, I can't tell you that.' It would have opened up the Mirage to attack from Tyranian troops in Kardiastan.

'Why not? You must have done it, or you wouldn't be here.'

When I didn't reply, he shouted at me. 'What's happened to you? You're behaving like a traitor, Ligea Gayed! A traitor to your country, to the memory of your father! You help us, or there'll be a report about you on die Magister Officii's desk the minute I'm in a position to have it there.'

For a moment we stood staring at each other, both aware there had been another fundamental change in our relationship, a change that had gone too far to ever be reversed.

And he wasn't finished yet, either. 'I should have known not to get involved with a Kardi barbarian,' he said and his viciousness went straight to my inner core of uncertainties. 'You're shit, Ligea, and you're the colour of shit. You always did have the vulgarity of an ill-bred barbarian. What highborn woman of Tyr consorts with the Brotherhood? What real Domina makes friends of her slaves? You never did have any class! And you geld a man. I only ever took up with you because I thought it would do my career good to be seen with a general's daughter but, by Ocrastes' balls, it's been a hard grind to bed such an ugly, castrating whore.' _,

Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

I felt his hate, I experienced it. I dragged in breath as hurt ripped through my chest.

No, Favonius, no. Don't end it like this. We were friends…

He'd loved me once, as much as he was capable of loving. He said so often enough, and my ears knew the truth when it was spoken. Even the words he'd just used were no more than a skimming of surface validity obscured by a twist of bitter lies. Why, then, did it hurt me so much? My insides cramped.

The colour of shit. Ugly.

When I re-entered the building a few minutes later, it was to find Brand leaning elegantly against the mantelpiece to one side of the fireplace, sipping a glass of wine. 'Well,' he said, 'at least they got something right this time. This is very good wine.' He held out a glass to me. 'Bet it tastes better than that pink stuff you were drinking earlier on. Rather nice glassware, too. Beautifully cut.'

I came across to take it. 'Mmm. Just what I need. A drink, a warm fire, a soft bed -' I raised my glass in a toast, but then didn't drink. I was suddenly stilled, my own words a revelation to me. Moments passed with neither of us speaking.

'I was never meant to be celibate,' I said finally.

'Why now?' The words blurted out of him; he was caught by surprise.

'Because now we are friends. Because now you will be able to walk away afterwards.' Because Temellin's gone from my life and I need comfort. Because I need reassurance that I am not an ugly, castrating whore…

He nodded thoughtfully. 'In some things, my Magor friend, you were wiser than I. You were right -

there was a time when this would have been a disaster.' He reached out, took my wine and put the two glasses down on the table. 'But not now.' He took me into his arms and bent his head towards my lips. 'Now,' he murmured, 'this is exactly right.'

When I looked out of the door the next morning, it was to see the legionnaires trying to restore what was left of the camp to some kind of order, and herding stray gorclaks back to the tether lines. They were carefully avoiding passing near – or even looking at – a jet of water shooting up out of the grass of the plains just behind the camp. The water fell to the ground in rainbowed droplets, each a musical note singing like the plucked strings of a harp. A flock of purple ducks preened nearby, ruffling their feathers and their ribbons in obvious enjoyment of the shower.

Inside, Brand was poking around among the things on the table, looking for something to eat. The black bird had abandoned its perch on the pump handle and was now on the mantelpiece, flat on its back with its feet up in the air. Its bright red eyes regarded Brand's investigations with interest.

I pushed away my guilt and smiled at Brand fondly. I had wondered if his lovemaking would disappoint me. I had wondered, now I knew what the touch of a lover's cabochon could achieve, if I were doomed to dissatisfaction without it, but I hadn't

been disappointed. The lovemaking might have lacked the physical intensity of what I had found with Temellin, it might have lacked the sheen that comes with the consummation of a different kind of love, but it had been satisfying nonetheless. Especially satisfying, after I'd seen how happy it had made Brand. That had surprised me; I had not realised giving someone else so much delight could have made me so happy.