Andrea Höst - Voice of the Lost

She looked down at her hands, long and slim, roughened by the calluses of a sword-fighter. "The worst of it is, I look back at my two pasts and the difference is in how I behaved, not how others did. Oh, I was spared some of it, looking as I now do, but it was my reaction to those around me which altered the whole complexion of my life. One Ileaha believed herself a burden, the other was too busy to care what the smirking maid and the bored governess thought of her. Those two were there in both lives. Everything is remarkably similar, in fact, and the fault was in me. I drew condemnation, practically courted it."

"By lacking confidence? I was a quiet child, Ileaha. I wanted to please my mother, wanted to be the perfect daughter my sister was not. I…like approval, I suppose. I don’t like anyone to consider me in the wrong, which makes some–" Medair grimaced. "Trying to be that faultless child just meant I was ignored. So I decided to be the perfect Herald and, though I would be very glad to have found a way to avoid war, to unmake all those deaths, I would not like to do my life over as a bolder, better me, who truly could shine in all her endeavours. That wonderful person I could have been doesn’t mean that the person I am is less valuable. You have taken different paths to the same person, and have no reason to despise either course."

"Not the same person, Medair. I am not a Velvet Hand. I have only ever wanted to be on name terms with my guardian, I have never called him Lukar to his face. I did not earn the congratulations of the Kier herself, or spend a year in Mylar las Cor-Ibis bed. I have not–" She broke off, and passed a hand across her face. "All these people, whose memories of their past is different from my own. The worst is Avahn, who I remember as pursuing me relentlessly since he was named heir, and yet has never even thought to do so. The new Ileaha could never take him seriously, and the old? I have loved him since I was a child and never dared to speak, could do nothing but hide behind a pretence of disdain. Now I remember months of courtship. But at least I know the truth, which is better than acting on these false memories."

"Ileaha…"

"No." The hand the young woman held up was as commanding as the Kier’s, part of the new Ileaha. "That is enough. I know the truth and I will deal with it. There are far more important matters to think of." She stood, looking at their clustered companions. "What are they doing?"

"Trying to identify some of the invested magic I brought out of Bleak’s Hoard," Medair replied, reluctantly. "Before we attempt the castle." Ileaha’s skin had an unhealthy waxen sheen and there was something about her which reminded Medair of a dropped vase, reassembled into its former shape but with no glue to hold it together. The cracks showed.

Silently, Ileaha moved to join the others, stationing herself Cor-Ibis' shoulder, firmly relegating herself to somewhere other than the centre of attention. Medair followed helplessly, unable even to comfort the younger woman. Cor-Ibis made no comment, which was probably the best approach. Instead, he handed Ileaha a sheathed sword: long, slim and unadorned.

"This will cut through almost any armor," he told her. "The sheathe seems to be part of the enchantment."

"Thank you, Keridahl," Ileaha replied. No more 'Lukar, it seemed. He asked her about the cave the patrol had used and she plainly found some comfort in reporting matter-of-factly.

"No detectable traps or trips. The gate is in an off-branch of the main cave. There are signs of frequent passage inside, but it is necessary to cross stone to reach the entrance, so there is no trail worn to make that particular cave stand out from its many fellows. It’s in the southern face of the hill, more west than east."

"Did you travel at all through the forest on your way here this morning?"

"Only the very periphery. Either the mist is not triggered during the day or I did not venture in far enough."

"Or Estarion has the means to set and unset the enchantment." He handed Medair back her satchel, having provided himself with a sword and Islantar a long knife before replacing the other items. "After such a devastating loss, Estarion’s forces cannot be many. The patrol suggests that they are not as disordered as I had hoped, but we are still more likely to encounter servants than soldiers. These can be overpowered, put out of the way. A general alarm should be avoided for as long as possible. Ideally, though it is unlikely, I wish to find and stop Estarion without alerting the castle at all." He paused. "It will be necessary to kill him, not merely rescue our fellows and take whatever means he has to summon gates. It is unlikely Farakkan can survive another wave of wild magic if he is driven to summon it again."

"And after we have killed this man?" Islantar asked. "What then?"

"If we have found a location which can be usefully fortified, Avahn and I will attempt to create a gate boosted by the rahlstones – provided he still has his. Staying together–"

He broke off as an Serentel signalled from the entrance, and they once again took shelter. Booted feet tramped past the cave entrance without pause, and the kaschen signalled again.

"We will go through the forest edge," Cor-Ibis said, leading the way to the entrance of the cave, but not venturing out immediately. "Once in the castle, we must keep together, though it increases our risk of detection. If we cannot finish Estarion, then our goal is Taedrin City. We will leave the castle as we entered it and, if we are separated, return to this cave for shelter. If it is not possible to regroup, then each is to attempt to make Taedrin City alone, and you especially Kierash. Did you prepare the wend-whisper?"

Islantar nodded.

"Tell Avahn that we are coming for him, and what he should do if he frees himself before we reach him."

Triggering a wend-whisper he had obviously prepared while Medair had been sleeping, Islantar murmured to himself for a short period, then nodded.

"Ready," he said.

Medair hoped they were.

They scuttled around the base of the hill, keeping to the edge of the trees until Ileaha pointed out a cave, unremarkable among the dozens surrounding it. After scanning the area thoroughly, Cor-Ibis turned his attention to the castle above.

"That turret overlooks this area," he noted. "And, unless I am mistaken, it is currently manned. Cross only on my signal, and quickly."

Medair stared upwards, trying to make out the occupants of the squat tower which projected from the southern wall of the castle. A flash of light reflected from some moving object and Medair found herself utterly certain that she would encounter Estarion’s special operative, Captain Vorclase, in Falcon Black. It was he who watched from the turret. She was so confused by this unexpected moment of foresight that she reacted slowly to Cor-Ibis' signal and lagged behind as they crossed. Cor-Ibis questioned her with a touch to her arm, but she shook her head, unwilling to try and communicate such a baseless premonition.

After about forty paces straight in, they needed a mageglow to show the way. Medair then counted another twenty steps before Ileaha indicated a particular side passage. It quickly became obvious that the cave had been widened and smoothed by something other than Farak’s decree and by the time they had reached the gate – a series of thick black bars set well into the stone – the walls, ceiling and floor were all even and regular, formed and shaped.

"From here in, stay alert for traps and trips," Cor-Ibis said, running a finger around the keyhole. "Slow progress, but we cannot expect an entrance to the castle to be guarded only by one grid of metal." The lock clicked open and he slowly opened the gate. Medair wondered at the frown which followed, and touched his arm, questioning him in the same fashion he had used. An excuse for a moment’s contact, she admitted to herself. He shook his head almost absently, and she guessed that some new concern was troubling him.