Roger Taylor - Ibryen

You’ve done your work well, Hagen, she thought. The very terror of your office strips all protection away from those it was intended to guard.

But the Gevethen eluded her all that day, though the effects of their presence could be seen vividly all around. The activity she had first encountered as she emerged from the silent corridors into the hallway was as nothing to what developed as the entire administration of the Citadel was marshalled to implement the Gevethen’s order for the committal of every resource to the immediate capture of the Count. Only one senior Army officer, it transpired, had suggested that the proposal was perhaps unwise and that not only would the cost in lives be appalling, but control across the whole of Nesdiryn and its borders might be dangerously loosened. The Gevethen had watched him coldly, then turned away with a casual gesture. The man had collapsed, writhing in pain. It had taken him an hour to die and he had died screaming such that even the hardest of the men around him were to be troubled in their dreams for long after. It had been a considerable time since the Gevethen had demonstrated their own frightening power, and news of it spread through the Citadel and to every army outpost faster than any other message delivered that day. All reservations about what was happening were subsequently spoken with the softest of voices and only in the presence of the most trusted of friends. Better to take your chance in the mountains than face certain death here. Catching the tale in transit, Jeyan stored it away as a reminder that the Gevethen were not without personal resource and that when finally she struck she must strike quickly, for there would be no second chance.

The net effect of the Gevethen’s order however, was confusion and disorder, for there were no procedures established for undertaking such a venture. Even those like Helsarn who managed to keep their minds clearly focused on the Gevethen’s intentions spent most of their time explaining to bewildered underlings and civilian officials, confirming messages to exhausted gallopers, and countermanding the orders of his more confused fellow officers. Nevertheless, the Gevethen’s will gradually took shape and soon, albeit raggedly, men and materiel were following in the wake of those who had been sent immediately to establish a base camp.

Jeyan remained on the balcony for a long time after the Ennerhald towers had faded into the night. Raised voices, the clatter of hooves and the rattle of carts rose in an incessant clamour from the courtyard below, and the city streets were alive with moving lights. As the darkness deepened, she began to see a faint glow in the sky beyond the city as a transit camp for the incoming forces grew ever larger.

Eventually, the night cold made itself felt and she was shivering when she retreated inside. The gloomy corridors seemed almost welcoming after peering so long into the darkness. Uncertain about what she should do, she decided to return to her room. If the Gevethen wanted her they would presumably look there first. It took a great deal of finding as, even after wandering the Citadel for several hours, she was far from familiar with the place. On her rambling way there, an opportunity presented itself to satisfy a simpler appetite and her Ennerhald habits had her steal some food when she found herself in the kitchens.

She was still eating when she finally located her room. Nothing had been changed since she left it. What had happened to her ever-watchful servants? she wondered. She stepped back out of the room and looked up and down the corridor. There were several doors each set back in a deep alcove. After a brief hesitation she went to the nearest and boldly seized the handle. The door opened silently to reveal a darkened room. She took a lantern from the corridor and turned up the light. The room was completely empty. She stopped after a couple of paces as her footsteps bounced back hollowly. Moving to the next door she found the same, and so it proved with all the other rooms, though some were furnished and some looked as if they might have been offices at one time.

After the milling confusion in the rest of the Citadel, the echoing emptiness unnerved her slightly. Then, she thought, it was understandable. Few would wish to be neighbours to the Lord Counsellor.

But where were the servants?

She shrugged. It was hardly a matter for great concern. She was glad to be rid of their overwhelming presence. Not least because had they set about preparing her for bed again, they would have discovered the knife and she knew she would have been unable to stop them taking it from her. Worse, the news that she had been carrying one would certainly have reached the Gevethen – with who could say what consequences? She turned over one or two excuses, but none of them felt particularly convincing.

Tugging the knife from her belt she moved to the bed and slipped it under the pillow. Then, taking off her tunic, she lay down. She wanted to think about everything that had happened since the Gevethen had come for her that morning. Was it only that morning – the sudden awakening in the pre-dawn darkness and the almost hasty dash through the mirrors? The memory brought back the penetrating coldness that marked her passage into that eerie world within, and she clamped her hands to her face, shuddering violently. If only she could be away from here – somewhere safe. Her eyes began to close as she went through again the Gevethen’s frightening, childlike quarrelling – the mysterious whirling tunnel and its collapse – Hagen – Assh and Frey. Then Ibryen in the sunlit forest – a world within a world? And who was the man with him, the one who had torn him free from the Gevethen’s grasp? Strange powerful face, with piercing eyes. And strange clothes too. She had never seen the like of him before.

And, above all, what had the Gevethen seen, or learned, in the brief scuffle with Ibryen?

‘He has the gift!’ they had screamed at one another in the midst of their rage. What gift? Had they not said to Hagen’s spirit that she had the gift? No, she remembered, they had said that she was kin, whatever that meant.

She started awake. She mustn’t doze off. She must remain awake and alert, ready to move as circumstances dictated. They might suddenly be in her room again. Then she rolled on to one side. Her hand slipped under the pillow and touched the knife as once she might have touched a cherished toy replete with the love of her parents.

What was Ibryen’s gift? The question returned. What had the Gevethen seen that had led to this frantic activity, this overturning of every meticulously ordered procedure in their administration? For though she knew little of the detailed workings of the Gevethen’s regime, she recognized well enough the near-panic that was pervading the Citadel and that it was markedly at odds with all that had gone before. And too, from remarks that she had overheard, she was beginning to realize the political implications of withdrawing the army from all the major towns and cities. The Gevethen were risking losing their grip on the entire country. And moving forces from the borders could well embolden neighbours who, peaceful in Ibryen’s time, had become increasingly alarmed by the Gevethen’s growing army.

What could possibly be so important to them?

What was Ibryen’s gift?

She forced her heavy eyes open.

What was Ibryen’s gift? What was so precious?

She fell asleep, her hand still touching the knife.

As ever, she woke abruptly and lay motionless. The lanterns were still lit, but there was more light in the room than they were making. She swung off the bed and went to the window. Daylight was seeping around the edges of the curtain. She returned to the bed and took the knife from under the pillow. A few deft cuts severed the stitching holding the curtains together and the morning light flooded in like fresh air. The sky was overcast though quite bright, but the distant mountains were lost under a lowering sky that reached right down to the ground. Though she could not see the sun, she judged that it was quite late in the morning. Her stomach confirmed the conclusion. This was unusual, for she did not normally sleep much after dawn. She looked around the room. It looked peculiarly small and dingy in the daylight. And it was unchanged from the previous night. Still the servants were missing.