David Drake - The Mirror of Worlds

"Karpos, you're not to tell me what I should or shouldn't do," Ilna snapped. "And Master Temple, youparticularly shouldn't be giving me direction." "I can't answer that question, Karpos," Temple said. He was pretending he hadn't heard her speak. "That's the only way she can reach the Messengers. If that's her goal, she hasn't any choice." "My goal is to rid the world of Coerli!" Ilna said. "As you should know by now." She started up the remaining slope toward the long sandstone ridge. She didn't look behind to see if the men were following her, though of course they were. And," she said, "you should also know that if I wanted your opinions, I'd have asked for them!" "Well, it'll be all right, I guess," said Karpos, trying to sound nonchalant. "Only I think I better go first, mistress. You know, because I'm… well, I've done this before." "I'm afraid that won't be possible, Karpos,"

Temple said quietly, "though the thought does you credit. To approach the Messengers requires a kind of strength that you and Asion don't possess. If you were to attempt it, you'd lose your humanity." Ilna's leg brushed the shrub growing in front of the cave. The leaves were small and plump; bitter to the taste, Ilna was sure, because all the vegetation of this sort was. They had horny tips which she hadn't noticed till they clawed her. She grimaced, then found her lips curling into a tight smile. The shrub's white flowers showed brilliantly in the moonlight. It was just another proof that attractive things came with a price. "Look, I guess I can take a chance if I want to!" Karpos said sharply. He was a big man-as big as Garric-but no physical match for Temple. Nonetheless there was a challenge in his tone. Instead of replying to the hunter, Temple said quietly. "Ilna, you may go or stay as you wish. If these men accompany you, however, they'll be transformed like those who came to question the Messengers and who lacked the power to compel answers. They'll become… servitors, I suppose. You know your own mind, but these men have been friends to you." Ilna stopped at the mouth of the cave.

She could enter without ducking her head, but only barely. She wondered how far she'd have to follow the passage. The patterns she knotted for protection wouldn't be effective in the dark, either. The air rising from the depths of the cave carried a hint of spices.

Perhaps priests were working rites within? Or the odors could be from a tomb. A waste of expense either way, but nobody'd asked whatshe thought about the matter. "Look, I'm not afraid!" said Asion. The high pitch of his voice made a lie of the words, but Ilna didn't doubt that he and his partner would act the part of fearless men. Temple didn't reply. He wasn't arguing with the hunters, of course. Ilna turned and took eight strands of yarn from her sleeve. She began to knot them.

"Temple," she said, "how deep is this? Should I take a torch?"

"There'll be light before you go much farther," the big man said.

"You'll have a long way to go, but being able to see won't be one of your problems." She'd never asked Temple how he knew the things he did. She disliked people who asked personal questions, and she had no intention of behaving that way herself. "All right," she said, backing into the cave. She held up the pattern she'd just knotted so they all saw it, then dropped it across the entrance. "You three can wait a reasonable length of time for me. Temple, you probably have a better idea of what that would be than I do. If I don't return, then go on your way. I, ah, I've been glad of your company over the past weeks."

"Look, I'm coming with you!" Karpos said, climbing the last of the slope. He stopped in mid-stride, short of the entrance. Asion, just behind, would've collided with his partner if he hadn't been as quick and agile as a sparrow. "No, you're not," said Ilna. "I've put a blocking spell here. It'll work in pitch darkness in case you were wondering, since I've showed it to you in the light." She cleared her throat. "Temple?" she said. "Asion and Karpos may need a guide if I don't come back. Can you do that?" Temple shrugged. "I'll lead them if the situation arises, Ilna," he said. She turned. To her back Temple added, "May the Gods accompany you, Ilna." "There are no Gods!" Ilna said. Her voice echoed between the stone walls. She shouldn't have gotten angry, but the man had an incredible talent for saying the thing that would reach all the way to the cold depths of her heart.

Ahead, Ilna saw a hint of light. She smiled as widely as she ever did.

What a weaver Temple could've been with an instinct like that!

Chapter 15 Cashel was pretty sure that if he'd been able to close his eyes, he wouldn't have felt any motion at all. He couldn't do that while he was guarding Tenoctris, so he felt a twitch of vertigo when the world stopped spinning beyond the edge of the perfect circle she'd drawn in the middle of an oak grove. The oaks were gone. The sun'd been directly overhead when Tenoctris began her spell, but now it was close to the southern horizon. Its light brought no warmth. Cashel and the wizard stood on a beach of rock broken from the ragged cliff, the corniche that the sea battered against during winter storms. The water was too quiet even to show a line of foam, but the low sun lighted it to gleaming contrast with the dull black shingle. Tenoctris looked about her with a critical expression. "I'm sorry I couldn't come closer than this," she said. "The altar's a focus of great power, but that in itself prevents me from using my art to bring us directly onto it. We'll have to walk." Cashel smiled faintly. "I don't mind walking, Tenoctris," he said. He stepped aside and gave his staff a tentative spin, sunwise and then widdershins. Mostly he was loosening his muscles, but it didn't surprise him to see that the ferrules trailed wizardlight in spirals which faded slowly when he put the staff up.

"Something doesn't want us here," Tenoctris said. She looked out to sea, then at the sky. The sunlight was so faint that Cashel, following her eyes, could pick out constellations from knowing their brightest stars. Cashel spun the quarterstaff again. "That's all right," he said. "Do you know which way we're going, or should we climb that-" He nodded to the corniche. Though barely higher than he could reach, it was what passed for a vantage point in this barren landscape. "-and take a look around?" Tenoctris looked at him. She wasn't angry, but her eyes went all the way to his heart. "We'll see the altar when we reach the angle of the cliff ahead of us," she said calmly. "It's just around the headland and quite obvious." They started along the shore.

A pair of gray-headed gulls had been looking out from the edge of the sea. One, then the other, flapped into the air and circled to gain height. They shrieked at Cashel and Tenoctris, sounding peevish as gulls always did. The black shingle wanted to turn under Cashel's bare feet, but other than that he preferred it to the brick or cobblestone pavements he walked on in cities. These stones were rough, but they didn't have spikes or sharp edges. He glanced at Tenoctris. She wore wooden-soled clogs, though the high uppers were of leather tooled with fashionable designs. She met his eyes, smiled, and said, "Yes, I dressed for what I expected to find." Her expression sobered. "I should've warned you," she said. "I'm sorry. I'm used to you being able to deal with anything." Cashel beamed at her. "Yes ma'am," he said. "I am. Or anyway, I'll try to." He cleared his throat and said,

"I shouldn't 've spoken about you knowing where we were. I knew you did." "You wanted me to get on with our business," Tenoctris said. She wore a faint smile, but he wasn't sure of what was under it. "You were right to remind me of that. We both have things we want to return to."

"Yes, ma'am," Cashel said, thinking of Sharina and feeling warm all the way through. "But I still shouldn't've said it." A crab longer than Cashel's foot came out of the surf ahead of them. Its shell was the dirty yellow-brown color that sulfur gets when you heat it. "Those pinchers could take your finger off," he said, bending to pick up a piece of shingle. He threw it, hard but not trying to hit: his missile cracked into similar stones a hand's breadth from the crab. For choice Cashel didn't kill things, even unpleasant things. Instead of scuttling back into the water, the crab charged them side-on.