David Zindell - Lord of Lies

'But evil can't be vanquished with a sword, Baltasar.'

'You say that, who have vanquished so many with your sword?'

My hand fell down upon my sword's hilt with its diamond pommel and swan-carved hilt of black jade. I swallowed against the pain in my throat as I said, 'Darkness can't be defeated in battle but only by shining a bright enough light.'

'Are these the words of the Lord of Light, then?'

They were, in fact, words that Master Juwain had spoken to me on the night when I had vowed to recover the Lightstone. Now he stood near me beaming his approval that I had taken to heart the deepest of his lessons. Maram, Behira, Lord Harsha and Lord Raasharu — and others — pressed in close to hear what we might say next.

'You should know, Val,' Baltasar confided to me, 'that many are saying the Maitreya would be a great warlord. Like Aramesh, That he would unite the Valari and lead us to victory over the Red Dragon. Then this Age of Light of which you dream might begin.'

Red flames seemed to dance in his eyes as he glanced at the knights and warriors gathered around us. I remembered the words from the Trian Prophecies: ' He shall be the greatest warrior in the world.'

I said to him, 'You love war too much, Baltasar.'

'As I love life itself, dear friend. What else calls to life so deeply as the duty to surrender it in protecting family and friends?'

I might have agreed with him — with the qualification that the Valari were meant to be warriors of the spirit only. But just then, to the sound of trumpets announcing the beginning of the feast my father, mother and brothers entered the hall from its western portal.

Lord Harsha cried out, 'The King!' as hundreds of people turned to watch Shavashar Elahad make his way toward the from of the room where my family's table was set. My father was a tall man whose black tunic, showing the swan and stars of our house, draped in clean lines about his large and powerful frame. Despite his years, he moved with a flowing grace that even a young knight might envy, his black eyes seemed filled with starlight and blazed with that fearlessness to which all Valari aspired. Many there were who could not bear the brilliance of his gaze and said that he was too hard on men, whether they be his enemies or those who had sworn him allegiance. But many more loved him precisely because he called them to find the best part of themselves and polish their souls until they sparkled like diamonds.

As he and my mother, with my brothers, took their places at table, ten warriors escorting a group, of yellow-robed men appeared in the western portal. A silence befell the hall. All eyes turned toward these men, for they were Morjin's emissaries: the hated Red Priests of the Kallimun. I and many others, struggled to get a good look at these seven priests who had been locked in their rooms in the keep for the last three days. But the great cowls of their robes hid their faces. The warriors led them to the table next to that of the Alonians. There, scarcely twenty feet from my father's withering gaze, they were seated.

And then the silence was suddenly broken as one of the knights near me cried out, 'Must we take meat with them? Send them back to Sakai!'

And then Vikadar of Godhra, one of the fiercest knights in Mesh, shouted, 'Send them back to the stars!'

His call for the priests to be executed out of hand gained the immediate approval of the more bloodthirsty in the hall. Next to me, Baltasar stood staring at the priests, and I could almost feel the heat of his ire beating through his veins. Many others burned for vengeance as well. But my father cooled the passions running through the hall with a sudden lifting of his hand. His bright eyes caught up Vikadar in reproach to remind him of one of Mesh's most sacred laws: that anyone who willfully killed an emissary should himself be put to death.

'It is said,' my father called out in his strong, clear voice, 'that these emissaries have been sent by Morjin to sue for peace. Very well — we shall hear what they have to say. But only after we've all taken meat.'

This was a signal that everyone still standing should take their seats. While Maram went off to join Lord Harsha and Behira at their table with Lord Tanu and Lord Tomavar, Master Juwain made his way toward his fellows of the Brotherhood. Sunjay and Baltasar sat with the other off-duty Guardians in the second tier of tables from the front of the hall. Upon taking my grandmother's arm in mine, I walked with her to our family's table where I pulled out her chair next to my father. I sat at the right end of the table next to my brother, Ravar. He had the

face of a fox, and his dark, quick eyes flickered from my father to the cowled faces of the Red Priests at their table before us. His sharp and secretive smile reminded me that our father would not be moved by fear of Morjin's men, which would be the same as admitting to fear of the Red Dragon himself.

It was strange eating our supper beneath the dais on which stood the Lightstone, guarded by thirty Knights of the Swan. Nevertheless eat we all did: fishes and fowls, joints of mutton and whole suckling pigs roasted brown and sheeny with fat. There were loaves of black barley bread, too, and pies and puddings — and much else. The feast began with talk of war on the Wendrush. A minstrel from Eanna brought rumor that Yarkona had finally fallen, conquered in Morjin's name by Count Ulanu the Cruel, who had been made that tormented realm's new king. From the various tables lined up through the hall came the buzz of many voices. Although it was impossible to follow so many streams of conversation, I heard more than one person speak of the Maitreya. Some feared that unless the Shining One came forth soon to lay hands upon the Lightstone, its radiance would fade and it might even turn invisible again. Others, citing verses from the Saganom Elu, gave voice to forebodings of some great disaster that would befall Ea if the Maitreya wasn't found and united with the golden cup. Too many of those present, I thought, cast quick, longing looks toward me before turning back to their neighbors to speak in hushed tones or taking up knives again to cut their meat.

Finally, after the last bit of gravy had been mopped up with the last crust of bread and every belly was full, brandy and beer were poured, and it came time for the many rounds of toasting. I watched Maram, sitting between Behira and the dour, old Lord Tanu, down glass after glass of thick, black beer. At our table, my family drank with less abandon. Next to me, Ravar nursed his single brandy while next to him, the dashing Yarashan, who had once boasted that he could outdrink any man in Mesh, contented himself with two slow beers, Karshur, Jonathay and Mandru did likewise. Asaru, his fine and noble face alert for the verbal sparring with the emissaries that soon must come, drank only a single glass. And my father joined Nona and my mother, the beautiful Elianora wi Solaru. in taking only one small sip of beer with each toast.

After all honors and compliments had been made, it came time for

that part of the feast that was less a gathering in good company than it was like battle and war. And so my father again held up his hand for silence. Then he called out into the hall:

'We will now hear from the emissaries and all who wish to voice their concerns.'

The first to speak that night would be prince Issur. As h pushed back his chair and stood to address my father everyone turned toward the Ishkan table to hear what he would say.

Prince Issur was a rather homely-looking man with a narrow forehead and a nose too big for his face. But he was spirited and prudent, and I knew him to be capable of a sort of harsh justice, and even kindness. His long hair, tied with five battle ribbons, hung down over his bright red surcoat showing the great white bear of the Ishkan royal house.