Andre Norton: The Duke's Ballad

Aisling mounted, wondering briefly if any would come to bid her farewell. It felt lonely to leave, to know that she was unlikely ever to see the valley or even Escore again. It would ease the feeling if…

Teelar turned the bend toward the valley’s rune-guarded exit and halted just beyond the glowing rune signs. Before him were Krogan, adepts, people from the valley, and a flittering of Flannan. Hilarion stepped out from the group.

“We are come to farewell you, my student. It is only fitting that you know you leave friends here.” He saw her face widen in one of her joyous smiles. He would miss the girl. She soaked up learning as Krogan soaked up water after too long on land. Aisling whirled from friend to friend, hugging, talking, accepting small gifts and fitting them into her saddlebags. At last, after more hugging, her friends began to drift back into the valley. Other renthans appeared, and Hi-larion and three guards swung up onto their respective mounts. Aisling looked a question.

“We ride with you,” the adept said briefly. He signaled and the small group started. They rode quietly, senses alert. The Valley of the Green Silences was in a sense headquarters for the Light. This close, few of the Dark would dare to venture, but it did no harm to be wary. Farther on toward the mountains the Dark had strongholds that had to be passed, and to alert them too soon was folly.

They rode through a long day. Nothing of moment occurred, but even the mere riding was tiring as they had to stay alert. At nightfall they made camp in a safe haven. The guards lit a small fire, preparing food while Wind Dancer lay motionless watching the flames, his eyes half-shut. Hilarion took his pupil aside. His face was grave as he handed her a small pouch. She opened it and gave a small gasp.

“A witch jewel. But Hilarion, I was never taught to use this. You said—” He raised a hand to silence her.

“I said you had no need of a witch jewel when you had your pendant. That is true.” He smiled slowly. “Nor if you could examine this would you find the usual qualities of a jewel. It is a trap. I prepared it in company with those others of us who feel you should have all the aid we can give you. It is keyed to you. Not the reverse. If it is destroyed it will cause you no pain nor any distress.”

“What if another attempts to probe it?”

Hilarion looked calm. “Then it will backlash with great ferocity. It will react with power proportionate to the other’s. The stronger he is, the greater the backlash, but also, as I say, it is keyed to you. If you feel you have no other hope, then there is a command you may give. It will then release all its power. You will die, but also everything within several yards of you will be completely destroyed as well.” He lowered his voice.

“The command is…” the sound vibrated softly in the air. “But the word is only half. You must also say this in your mind, directing the thought at the jewel before you speak the word. That keys it to be ready. The moment the word is spoken aloud the power will strike. It matters not if several days have elapsed. It is keyed, and it will strike then when you say the word.”

He looked at her. “I emphasize, it is not a witch jewel. It is a trap designed to appear as a jewel. I made it as an experiment. Because of its properties it could not be used by Estcarp witches. The keying is too close to their own jewels. But your pendant is different. To use one is not to trigger the other. I would suggest that you wear the witch jewel openly if the time comes when you are beset, but hide the pendant within your clothing. Let any who come against you believe that the jewel is your focus. That way they will direct any attack against it, and you will be free to use the pendant. As for the pendant, I have questions about it.”

Aisling nodded. “What questions, Adept?”

“You said that you knew nothing of the pendant’s origins. That it came down from your grandmother. But what of her, what do you know of her kin, her clan, her family?”

Aisling spread her hands. “She was of the Old Blood. Pure, so it was said. I remember my parents speaking once. Some tale about the line having blood other than human, too. Or a different race.” Hi-larian seemed to become more interested. “I know so little, only that it was given before the Horning to Larian, my grandmother’s brother. When the Horning came he gave it to my grandmother for safekeeping. Before that, it was held as a bride gift to be given to the new wife of each heir in turn.”

“Were there any customs?”

“None that I know, save that it was only to be given the morning after the wedding.”

He blinked. “Now that is interesting. It was to be given only when the giver could be sure the receiver no longer had power to use it fully.”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“No.” He thought a moment. “You use it as a focus to reach your own power. Have you ever tried to reach power within the pendant?”

“No, not on purpose, but…” her voice faded as she remembered. Kirion and Ruart had sent servants. She’d been kidnapped from Gerith Keep, struck down, drugged, taken to her brother and his lecherous crony. They’d quarreled as to who should use her, and while they gambled to decide, she’d been locked several levels down in Ruart’s dungeons.

She explained. “I’d found a metal strip and picked the locks, but at the ground level the door had been barred from the other side as well. I raised the bar by the power of my mind alone.” She could still recall that effort, and now she was remembering something she had forgotten from that time.

“I didn’t have the pendant then, but I’d seen it when I worked with Grandmother. I think I called the shape of it. I used it to focus.” Her eyes blanked as she remembered the strain of lifting the bar, her exhaustion afterward. “It was only when I could really see it in my mind that I was able to lift the bar. Is that important?”

Hilarion reached out and touched the chain on which the pendant hung. His fingers drew it into view. “The work is very old, from before the departure of your people to Estcarp. It was adept-made. I think its purpose was to improve what little power was left to the woman of the house after her wedding. But with the loss of most of her gift she could not truly bond to it, only use it.

Hilarion nodded. “Your grandmother must have become one with it as a child. It seems that the small gift she had did not lessen with her marriage. And yet she was able to pass the pendant to you, which indicates it is more powerful than it appears. It has power of a kind strange to me, and I dare not probe too deeply. I have no wish to damage it.” His eyes met hers. “But, Aisling, if you are about to lose the battle and even the witch jewel has failed you, call on this.”

“What about my dagger?”

“A pretty thing and useful. It too is old and made by the same hand I think. Did your grandmother ever use it?”

“No. She was given it by Larian too, but she laid it away once she was in Aiskeep.” Aisling smiled. “I’m the first to wear them both. How could it be from the same place, Hilarion? They came from different sides of the family.” Her teacher had a strange look on his face, the look of one who knows there is something he has forgotten and strives fruitlessly to remember. He shrugged at last.

“I once heard something I can not recall. Not that it is likely to matter. As to your question, both sides of your family carried some blood of the Old Race. Maybe once they were kin. But let us go to sit by the fire and eat before we sleep. We will ride long again tomorrow.”

That they did and for another day more in a cautious circling around places where evil lurked. But close to the mountains they could swing wide no further. Hilarion went ahead and returned at a steady trot.