Ширли Мерфи - The Castle Оf Hape. Caves Оf Fire Аnd Ice. The Joining Оf Тhe Stone

“He is safe. Somewhere . . .”

“If he knew I had lain with a dark Seer, that I bore that Seer’s child . . .When—when NilokEm knew I was with child, he locked me in my room so I could not run away. He kept me there until Dal was born, kept us locked in afterward with a nurse, a mute woman.

“When Dal was weaned, NilokEm took him away from me. He said my baby would be raised in the villa, and he had me brought here to this tower and locked in. A servant brings me food once a week.”

“But why—why does he hate you so? And if he hates you, why does he keep you alive? He could have—”

“Because of the runestone.”

Skeelie stared at her. “The runestone you brought out of Tala-charen,” she said slowly.

“NilokEm is convinced that I have it, that he can sense its power. But I don’t, Skeelie. It is lost. I don’t know where. I can’t remember where. After that moment on Tala-charen, I was so tired, so confused. I can’t remember what happened to it. There was darkness. I can remember sleeping, and then afterward it was gone. But I remember something, Skeelie. I remember clearly that on Tala-charen, at the moment of the splitting of the stone, I saw NilokEm.”

“NilokEm? I don’t—at the moment of the splitting?”

“He was there, in Tala-charen. Holding a shard of the stone in his cupped hands, hunkering over it, and then gone, faded just as I faded.

“Skeelie, NilokEm possesses a shard of the runestone of Eresu.

“When I first stood in his villa, I knew I had seen him but I could never remember where. Then, just after Dal was born, NilokEm was standing in my room looking down at Dal, and suddenly he disappeared.

“He appeared again in a moment, holding the runestone in his cupped hands, staring at it with amazement, his cheeks flaming red the way he gets when he is terribly excited, eager for something. He . . . I was so tired, dizzy, and confused. I couldn’t believe he held a shard of the runestone. I couldn’t understand what had happened, not then. I only knew he had come into the birthing room wanting to see his heir, then disappeared, then appeared again. When he—when he returned, he stared at me almost with wonder, forgot himself, he was so excited at having the stone. But he had seen me there on Tala-charen, and soon his look turned to terrible fury. I didn’t understand what he was saying. He kept shouting. ‘That is the secret you harbor! That is the secret!’ over and over. He stared at me with terrible hatred. I pulled Dal close and thought he would kill us both. He said, ‘That is the power I felt in you! That is why I chose you, because the power of the runestone is on you! You carry a runestone of Eresu! You were there on Tala-charen!’ He was clutching the runestone in his hand; he held it up flashing green in the lamplight and shouted, ‘This one is my stone! But you carry a shard of the runestone, and I will have it!’ He didn’t even notice his son. He was . . . he terrified me.”

Skeelie held Telien against her, the bars hurting them. The wind came cold; the steel bars were cold as ice.

“He wouldn’t believe I didn’t have the stone, that I have no Seer’s powers. I told him over and over I had no power, that I had lost the stone, and truly, I don’t know where it is. He beat me, he took Dal from me and knocked me down. Took . . . took Dal away . . .” Her tears caught light, trickling. “But then Dal would not nurse another, they could not find a wet-nurse he would take, so NilokEm had him sent back to me. He swore that when Dal was weaned he would lock me in this tower and leave me here until I told him where the stone is or until I died. But I cannot remember where, I cannot! He beat me over and over. I don’t know why he didn’t kill me, except he truly believes that one day I will tell him. He wants two runestones; he wants them all. His greed for power—”

“But where . . .?”

“I do not know where. It is lost somewhere in Time. All of that is confusion to me now, is only a dark dream that comes sometimes so I wake screaming. A churning dream, everything flowing and warping together, one voice drowning another. I can make nothing come clear, Skeelie. I think there is darkness around the stone. I am almost able to remember sometimes, then it is gone. A woman cries out, horses come thundering, there is blood, all so mixed-up, so . . .” She was weeping again, silently, into her hands.

Skeelie pulled her close. They clung so, in silence, warming each other, the bars pressing between them, Skeelie knowing Telien’s pain and fear and confusion and not understanding how to help her. Skeelie anticipating Ram’s terrible hurt when he learned at last that Telien had borne the son of NilokEm.

She felt awe of the power with which the stone shaped the lives it had touched. How different their lives would be if none of them had ever held the runestone. Why had each of them been drawn to it? And how?

Why, for that matter, was the wraith drawn to it? Had the wraith, too, touched the runestone at some distant time and been ever after drawn greedily back to it?

Had the runestone, then, as much power to offer those of evil as it had to those who battled evil? But of course it did, the very splitting of the stone had come from the violent battling between forces of the light and the dark so evenly balanced, so cataclysmic, that they tore asunder all Time for one blinding instant.

And because he sensed the aura of the stone around Telien, NilokEm had brought her to this time to breed into his heir the power he had thought she held. Skeelie remembered suddenly, startled, what old Gravan had said. The goatherd’s voice echoed like a shout in her mind. Many think NilokEm died, lady, by the hand of Ramad of wolves. His words pounded over and over. By the hand of Ramad. By the hand of Ramad.

“Telien, where is NilokEm?”

“In the villa, I suppose. He never comes here. Skeelie, I felt so helpless, moving through Time I don’t know how far, then being pulled back so close to our own time, but unable to reach our time. When I found myself in NilokEm’s garden, it was only three years after the battle of the Castle of Hape. But I could not reach that time. I could not reach Ram. . . .”

Skeelie remained silent. Three years—and six more years had passed since Telien stood in that garden. Nine years . . . Old Gravan’s words were like a shout in her head. Some say NilokEm died, lady, by the hand of Ramad— Ramad returned nine years after the battle of the Castle of Hape and killed the last dark Seer.

This year, this time, was nine years after the fall of the Castle of Hape. Skeelie wanted to say, Ram will kill him, Ram will kill NilokEm. She stared at Telien, a dozen emotions, a dozen thoughts assailing her, and she could not say it; but a thought like ice gripped her: Ram would kill NilokEm if nothing happened, if Time did not warp into a new and unpredicted pattern.

What power might NilokEm hold over Ram with the runestone he held, if Ram did not also carry a shard of the jade? Power enough to change a prediction? And in the meantime, before that prediction came to pass—if it came to pass—what evil deeds would NilokEm accomplish, using the runestone of Eresu?

At least, if Ram were to be cast into this time to battle NilokEm, he need not find Telien captive. He could find her safe, free of this dark tower. Skeelie clung to the bars, the cold wind biting at her, and tried to form some plan. Telien leaned against her nearly asleep, sighing deep inside herself as if her spirit felt quite safe now that Skeelie was there. When Skeelie moved, to stare down the side of the tower, Telien woke suddenly and clung fast to her, “You aren’t going away? I thought . . .”