Ширли Мерфи - The Dragonbards

Take care, Tebriel. I know that you will come searching for me. I cannot prevent that. And I need you—but not before you are ready. Take care—that the dark within you does not triumph.

They sat stricken, touching the page. Meriden knew too well what fevers swept his mind—knew, as Thakkur knew. Thakkur’s warnings filled him, too. Take care, Tebriel, when you journey into Sharden. You are not invulnerable. Do not do this alone. Thakkur’s voice was as clear as Meriden’s, as if both were there with him, watching him.

Yet in this one thing, Teb knew, Thakkur was wrong. He must do this alone, no one else must go from Tirror. He looked at Kiri, torn between Thakkur’s wisdom, the threat to Tirror, and his mother’s need. Meriden must not face Quazelzeg alone. Perhaps she had done all she could to draw Quazelzeg away from Tirror, perhaps she needed him desperately now.

Certainly the other bards did not need him—with the dark, traitorous winds that swept him, he was the weakest among them.

This thought alone should have held him back, should have made him turn away from confronting Quazelzeg and endangering Meriden. But it did not. It only fired his determination to conquer that weakness—by facing the greatest challenge he could face. By defeating Quazelzeg and saving Meriden—by saving Tirror. Thakkur’s whisper, Do not let your pride lead you, went unheeded.

Kiri, shaken with fear, moved into his arms and pressed her face against him. She held him tight, willing him to stay. He pulled away and cupped her face in his hands.

“I mean to go at once. Seastrider and I must go alone.”

“You must not. That is what you must not do. That is exactly what Thakkur warned you about. Oh, please, you must not face the dark alone. Please, Teb. Face Quazelzeg within the love and strength of all of us together. We will all go together, battle him together. Not alone. Not—”

His flaring anger silenced her. “If you care for me, if you know me and care for me, you know I must do this alone.” He reached to remove the lyre.

“No!” she shouted. “No! If you must go alone, then you must take the lyre!” Her fear and anger were terrible. “You will not go into Sharden without it!” She stood defying him until he dropped the lyre back against his tunic.

As he turned away, she stood looking after him filled with the one consolation, that the lyre would give him strength.

Chapter 24

Within Quazelzeg’s eastern palace there is a door made of gold that can open by a warping of time and place into the Castle of Doors— just as the door in the sunken city did. Yet only if our own power falters does Quazelzeg hold certain control over his private gold door.

*

Teb and Seastrider left well before it was light. His thoughts were filled with what lay ahead, but filled, too, with Thakkur’s dark eyes watching him. He had so strong a sense of Thakkur that the white otter might almost have been with him. His mind echoed Thakkur’s warnings of danger and foolish pride—and of the foolishness of battling the dark alone. Thakkur’s voice rode with him for a long way, unsettling him, nearly making him turn back. But then Thakkur’s more positive words came. I have absolute faith in you, Tebriel—in your goodness. . . .

When thoughts of Thakkur faded, the wind rushed empty around Teb. Alone on the wind, bard and dragon remained silent, winging north toward Aquervell and the city of Sharden.

*

It took Kiri hours to go to sleep. She tossed on her straw pallet, trying not to wake Camery. Her fear for Teb was a blackness that would not leave her. She knew that when she woke in the morning, Teb and Seastrider would be gone—alone. When finally she did sleep, she dreamed a vision so real she thought she and Teb had returned to Nightpool.

She dreamed that Seastrider and Windcaller dropped onto the sea beside Nightpool, and all around them otters came hurrying out of caves, shouting and hah-hahing in greeting. She dreamed that she and Teb followed Thakkur and Hanni into the sacred cave amid a press of eager, fishy-smelling otters. There, Thakkur turned and looked at her with such powerful concern and said, “I can give you this, I can give Tebriel this, though it pains me.”

She dreamed that the clamshell had brightened, and when the vision came, all who watched were caught in the black emptiness between worlds. She saw the ivory lyre lying alone, across ancient white bones. She saw Quazelzeg moving through dark worlds following a shadow she could not make out, and she screamed with fear for Teb. She awoke sweating and cold.

In his palace at Aquervell, Quazelzeg followed Meriden in vision, meaning to turn her back to Tirror, where his power over her would be greatest. She kept retreating, glancing back at him, laughing as she slipped in and out of shifting dimensions beside the white dragon. He did not like her mockery; he did not like the insolent turn of her head. She thought that she led him, that she had drawn him through again. But this was only a vision. He would follow her thus until she fled from him into evils she had not dreamed; then she would beg for his help.

A river lay ahead. Meriden and the dragon flew across it. Rivers contained creatures friendly to him, and he stepped in. When slimy hands reached, he smiled. This was, after all, only vision. But the creatures clutched at him. When he pushed them away, their mouths sucked at his hands and arms, burning like fire. He turned, puzzled—she had drawn him through against his will. He brought his power to drive the creatures back, to free himself. But Meriden and the dragon stood before him.

Behind them opened a Door into a cave, and in the cave shone the giant white skeleton of a dragon. Its tall ribs curved up in an arch, and its empty eye sockets held shadows that shifted and threatened him—as if Bayzun’s spirit lived. Meriden smiled coldly.

“The spirit of Bayzun will defeat you,” she said softly “The Ivory Lyre of Bayzun will defeat you.”

Quazelzeg backed away, willed himself away from her; with a terrible effort he willed himself back into his palace.

He stood there shaken.

This moment made an end to games. The woman must be disposed of. He shouted for Shevek. The captain came running.

“I expect to be in Sharden by tomorrow night. I do not relish a long ride. Find a fast ship.”

Shevek nodded.

Quazelzeg smiled. In Sharden his powers would increase. In Sharden he could step through at his own choosing, by the power of the gold Door, and move on within the Castle of Doors readily, to find Meriden. Soon Tebriel would arrive in Sharden, and the spells Quazelzeg had planted within the bard—and the bard’s own weakness—would feed his own power further.

*

Kiri woke to sunlight in her face. Camery’s bed was empty. She lay seeing the dream. Was it a dream? Or, as she slept, had Thakkur given her a vision? Her thoughts were filled with the shadows of dark worlds and with Quazelzeg’s pale, evil face; and with the shock of the ivory lyre lying abandoned across ancient bones. Waking fully, she remembered that Teb would be gone from Auric now, winging over far continents, and she buried her face in her pillow.

At last she rose, washed from the basin of cold water Camery had left, and dressed. She did not feel hungry. She went down the stone flights, thinking only of Teb.

The main hall was crowded with folk packing bundles, wrapping food, mending and oiling harness and boots. The courtyard was the same, as people prepared to journey north. Teb’s desire to hurry northward had flamed through the palace, filling everyone with the need to follow him.

Camery came to join her.

“He wasn’t ready,” Kiri said. “He isn’t ready to face Quazelzeg.”