Voice of the Lost : Medair Part 2, page 7
All eyes were on the bright triangle of sunlight marking the curving cave entrance. First there was a hint of movement, then a shadow which preceded a woman holding a sword at ready. Her braid of pure white hair caught the light as it swung about her ankles. She was as Ibisian as Cor‑Ibis, had even a family resemblance, and moved with the grace of the best swordswomen. The clothing she wore was very similar to Liak ar Haedrin's uniform, that of a warrior in Cor‑Ibis' private guard. Cool eyes swept the cave, stopping at Cor‑Ibis' face.
"'Lukar!" Relieved and pleased, the woman lowered her sword, and hurried forward at a less cautious pace. "I was afraid I had missed you."
"Ileaha." Cor‑Ibis said the name slowly. Medair stared.
"Avahn and Heleise and one of the kaschen have been taken," the woman said, her voice admittedly very like Ileaha's. "A patrol of ten from the castle caught them just as they came out of a cave." She shook her head, the ankle-length braid swinging. "They were no more than fifty feet from me the entire night, if only I had known it. Who would have thought a tree would prove the safer?"
"This just happened?" Cor‑Ibis asked, ignoring any surprise he might be feeling in favour of more pressing concerns.
"No. Shortly after dawn. I followed them in case there was any chance of breaking them free before they were taken into the castle, but the patrol was alert." The woman took a step forward. "But, 'Lukar, the most important thing: they took them into one of the caves, not the castle. I followed them in and was nearly captured myself when the patrol split, with two remaining with Avahn and the others. Once the rest had resumed circling the castle, I went back into the cave, and found a gate, quite far in. The lock was not one which could be forced, so I came here as quickly as I could."
"The AlKier favours us," Cor‑Ibis said. "When the patrol goes past again, we will make our way to this cave, rather than attempt a frontal assault." He gestured to the hidden kaschen, who emerged and returned to the cave entrance to watch, his curiosity and disappointment poorly disguised.
"Ileaha." Medair gave up hiding as well. She searched a stranger's face as she approached. Leaner than the Ileaha she had travelled with to Athere, and the colouring was dramatically different, as perfectly pale as the purest Ibisian. Her thick, silken rope of hair swayed with her every movement. But it was Ileaha.
"Medair!" The woman embraced her, much to Medair's discomposure. "I feared we had lost you as well."
"Not quite." Medair glanced at Cor‑Ibis, who was watching expressionlessly. "Ileaha, do you remember the Conflagration?"
A frown touched pale blue eyes. "Conflagration?"
"Do you remember the fire surrounding Athere?"
"Estarion's army?" Ileaha was grave, puzzled by the question but answering obediently. "I have never before seen such a display of bale-fire. Tens of thousands of weapons raised against us."
"Do you remember when you met me?"
Ileaha paused, eyes narrowing. "Do you think me an imposter, Medair? Yes, of course I remember when I met you. It was at the Caraway Seed Inn on Thrence Island. Do you have any other questions?"
"Do you recall our departure from Thrence, when we rode north toward Farash?"
The woman who had once been Ileaha stared. "You can't ride off an island," she pointed out. "The Alshem took us to the north shore of the Shimmerlan."
Medair touched the warrior woman's arm, more tentatively than she would have the original Ileaha's. "You don't recall the night we stayed in the Whistling Hills? When Avahn recited 'Faron's Lament'? 'The Lady of the Hills'?"
"Avahn is forever repeating some fragment of Telsen," Ileaha said, with a shrug which went awry half-way through. She stared at nothing for a long moment, eyes wide and frightened, raised a hand to her head, and then collapsed. Medair went to her knees as the rest of their small company came out of hiding.
"The transformations of the Conflagration haven't ceased?" Islantar murmured, looking down at the tangle of limbs and braid and Medair attempting to cradle Ileaha's head. "If it has done this, what other unpredictable changes might we face?" Catching Medair's eye, he raised a hand apologetically even as he continued. "And yet, she has not forgotten as completely as N'Taive, who has yet to be brought to recall anything of the person she was before she became the Herald of Tir'arlea."
"Between two worlds." Cor‑Ibis helped Medair straighten Ileaha's crumpled form. The woman began to revive as he touched her, but was obviously no longer the warrior who had entered the cave, confident in her past. Her face was slack with horror, and she turned it from Cor‑Ibis as if she did not want to look at him.
"Here," Medair said, unsealing her satchel and handing it to him. "Leave me alone with her a while. To locate the objects I described, think of them and reach into the satchel."
"Of course." Cor‑Ibis paused, then added gently: "I give you use of my name, Ileaha." He rose smoothly and drew Kel ar Haedrin and Islantar further into the cave.
"Do you want to sit up?" Medair asked. She applied slight pressure to Ileaha's shoulder and started when the woman jerked forward, then struggled quickly to her feet. Taking a few short steps, she clutched at the rough stone wall, eyes pressed tightly shut.
Medair did not immediately disturb her. Then, when it seemed Ileaha would not move, she said, "You remember who you were?"
"I remember who I am," Ileaha replied harshly, glaring down at herself. The tip of her braid, clasped by an ornate band of silver, swung mockingly through the shadows. "Who I am, not what has been made of me."
"Is it–?" Medair hesitated. "Maybe you should sit down."
"And that will make it better?" But she did as Medair suggested, staring back into the cave, where Cor‑Ibis had summoned a mageglow, since his internal illumination was not enough to offset the gloom.
"Do you remember two lives now?"
"I remember my life. And that of a person who doesn't exist." Ileaha squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them, taking a deep breath. The lines of despair on her face eased as she fought for some measure of self-control.
Medair searched for something useful to say, and tried: "You are probably the only person in all Farakkan who knows and understands the world left by the Conflagration, as well as the one it replaced. That is not...unenviable."
"Hardly."
"Are your two lives so very different?" Medair asked. "You seem to have become what you planned to be, a little sooner perhaps."
Ileaha shook her head. "Don't you see? Medair, if you thought the war which broke the Palladian Empire had been prevented, that the Ibis-lar had accepted the rule of Corminevar, but one day you were among your friends and they said to you something which made you realise that your memories were false, that all you knew were dead, that you were – wrong?"
"An extreme example," Medair said, wishing very much that someone would reveal to her that the past year and five hundred were a figment of her imagination. But – that would mean Cor-Ibis would never have touched her. She backed away from the thought. "Your two lives can't be so unlike as that, Ileaha."
"No." Ileaha reached out and clasped Medair's shoulder briefly. "That was thoughtless, Medair. Forgive me."
"There was no offence," Medair said, wondering how close a friendship this new Ileaha remembered them sharing.
"Twenty-three years of being alone, Medair. That is what I have. Of being unworthy, of being one of Cor‑Ibis' wards, half-breed in a pure family, unwanted, without value. And this is what I am in the Conflagration's version of Farakkan, where the cold blood does not readily dilute when it mixes with Farakkian heat, and children born of Ibis-lar and Farak-lar show nothing at all of the blood of this land."
She looked down at her hands, long and slim, roughened by the calluses of a sword-fighter. "The worst of it is, I look back at my two pasts and the difference is in how I behaved, not how others did. Oh, I was spared some of it, looking as I now do, but it was my reaction to those around me which altered the whole complexion of my life. One Ileaha believed herself a burden, the other was too busy to care what the smirking maid and the bored governess thought of her. Those two were there in both lives. Everything is remarkably similar, in fact, and the fault was in me. I drew condemnation, practically courted it."
"By lacking confidence? I was a quiet child, Ileaha. I wanted to please my mother, wanted to be the perfect daughter my sister was not. I...like approval, I suppose. I don't like anyone to consider me in the wrong, which makes some–" Medair grimaced. "Trying to be that faultless child just meant I was ignored. So I decided to be the perfect Herald and, though I would be very glad to have found a way to avoid war, to unmake all those deaths, I would not like to do my life over as a bolder, better me, who truly could shine in all her endeavours. That wonderful person I could have been doesn't mean that the person I am is less valuable. You have taken different paths to the same person, and have no reason to despise either course."
"Not the same person, Medair. I am not a Velvet Hand. I have only ever wanted to be on name terms with my guardian, I have never called him 'Lukar to his face. I did not earn the congratulations of the Kier herself, or spend a year in Mylar las Cor‑Ibis' bed. I have not–" She broke off, and passed a hand across her face. "All these people, whose memories of their past is different from my own. The worst is Avahn, who I remember as pursuing me relentlessly since he was named heir, and yet has never even thought to do so. The new Ileaha could never take him seriously, and the old? I have loved him since I was a child and never dared to speak, could do nothing but hide behind a pretence of disdain. Now I remember months of courtship. But at least I know the truth, which is better than acting on these false memories."
"Ileaha..."
"No." The hand the young woman held up was as commanding as the Kier's, part of the new Ileaha. "That is enough. I know the truth and I will deal with it. There are far more important matters to think of." She stood, looking at their clustered companions. "What are they doing?"
"Trying to identify some of the invested magic I brought out of Bleak's Hoard," Medair replied, reluctantly. "Before we attempt the castle." Ileaha's skin had an unhealthy waxen sheen and there was something about her which reminded Medair of a dropped vase, reassembled into its former shape but with no glue to hold it together. The cracks showed.
Silently, Ileaha moved to join the others, stationing herself Cor‑Ibis' shoulder, firmly relegating herself to somewhere other than the centre of attention. Medair followed helplessly, unable even to comfort the younger woman. Cor‑Ibis made no comment, which was probably the best approach. Instead, he handed Ileaha a sheathed sword: long, slim and unadorned.
"This will cut through almost any armor," he told her. "The sheathe seems to be part of the enchantment."
"Thank you, Keridahl," Ileaha replied. No more 'Lukar, it seemed. He asked her about the cave the patrol had used and she plainly found some comfort in reporting matter-of-factly.
"No detectable traps or trips. The gate is in an off-branch of the main cave. There are signs of frequent passage inside, but it is necessary to cross stone to reach the entrance, so there is no trail worn to make that particular cave stand out from its many fellows. It's in the southern face of the hill, more west than east."
"Did you travel at all through the forest on your way here this morning?"
"Only the very periphery. Either the mist is not triggered during the day or I did not venture in far enough."
"Or Estarion has the means to set and unset the enchantment." He handed Medair back her satchel, having provided himself with a sword and Islantar a long knife before replacing the other items. "After such a devastating loss, Estarion's forces cannot be many. The patrol suggests that they are not as disordered as I had hoped, but we are still more likely to encounter servants than soldiers. These can be overpowered, put out of the way. A general alarm should be avoided for as long as possible. Ideally, though it is unlikely, I wish to find and stop Estarion without alerting the castle at all." He paused. "It will be necessary to kill him, not merely rescue our fellows and take whatever means he has to summon gates. It is unlikely Farakkan can survive another wave of wild magic if he is driven to summon it again."
"And after we have killed this man?" Islantar asked. "What then?"
"If we have found a location which can be usefully fortified, Avahn and I will attempt to create a gate boosted by the rahlstones – provided he still has his. Staying together–"
He broke off as an Serentel signalled from the entrance, and they once again took shelter. Booted feet tramped past the cave entrance without pause, and the kaschen signalled again.
"We will go through the forest edge," Cor-Ibis said, leading the way to the entrance of the cave, but not venturing out immediately. "Once in the castle, we must keep together, though it increases our risk of detection. If we cannot finish Estarion, then our goal is Taedrin City. We will leave the castle as we entered it and, if we are separated, return to this cave for shelter. If it is not possible to regroup, then each is to attempt to make Taedrin City alone, and you especially Kierash. Did you prepare the wend-whisper?"
Islantar nodded.
"Tell Avahn that we are coming for him, and what he should do if he frees himself before we reach him."
Triggering a wend-whisper he had obviously prepared while Medair had been sleeping, Islantar murmured to himself for a short period, then nodded.
"Ready," he said.
Medair hoped they were.
CHAPTER SEVEN
They scuttled around the base of the hill, keeping to the edge of the trees until Ileaha pointed out a cave, unremarkable among the dozens surrounding it. After scanning the area thoroughly, Cor‑Ibis turned his attention to the castle above.
"That turret overlooks this area," he noted. "And, unless I am mistaken, it is currently manned. Cross only on my signal, and quickly."
Medair stared upwards, trying to make out the occupants of the squat tower which projected from the southern wall of the castle. A flash of light reflected from some moving object and Medair found herself utterly certain that she would encounter Estarion's special operative, Captain Vorclase, in Falcon Black. It was he who watched from the turret. She was so confused by this unexpected moment of foresight that she reacted slowly to Cor-Ibis' signal and lagged behind as they crossed. Cor-Ibis questioned her with a touch to her arm, but she shook her head, unwilling to try and communicate such a baseless premonition.
After about forty paces straight in, they needed a mageglow to show the way. Medair then counted another twenty steps before Ileaha indicated a particular side passage. It quickly became obvious that the cave had been widened and smoothed by something other than Farak's decree and by the time they had reached the gate – a series of thick black bars set well into the stone – the walls, ceiling and floor were all even and regular, formed and shaped.
"From here in, stay alert for traps and trips," Cor-Ibis said, running a finger around the keyhole. "Slow progress, but we cannot expect an entrance to the castle to be guarded only by one grid of metal." The lock clicked open and he slowly opened the gate. Medair wondered at the frown which followed, and touched his arm, questioning him in the same fashion he had used. An excuse for a moment's contact, she admitted to herself. He shook his head almost absently, and she guessed that some new concern was troubling him.
The way she and Cor-Ibis were behaving toward each other, as if they had reached some settled accord during her storm of tears, was more than troubling her. She should not allow herself this, not unless she truly believed that she could keep to her resolve.
The enormity of that question was not something she could resolve while trying to invade an enemy castle. The middle of an assassination attempt, and she was focusing on the wrong things. Stopping Estarion, preventing a second wave of wild magic, was the first priority.
"I cannot sense any enchantment in the immediate area," Islantar said, stepping through the gate while Cor-Ibis' attention was on Medair. "But how do we discover snares set without magic?"
"With our eyes," Ileaha said, catching the Kierash's arm before he took another step and indicating the faint outline of a square in the centre of the passage.
"We will need more light, to catch such subtleties," Cor-Ibis said, turning from Medair to make a short sharp gesture. A further two mageglows burst into existence. He looked at his hand strangely, then walked forward. "If you will lead the way, Ileaha, while Kierash Islantar and I concentrate on our senses?"
"Of course, 'Lukar," Ileaha said, prowling forward. Medair saw the young warrior check, as the two pasts in her mind collided again, but then she continued to glide smoothly down the passageway.
They had not moved more than thirty paces past the gate when Cor-Ibis told Ileaha to hold her position.
"A detect," Islantar said, and Cor-Ibis nodded.
"Nothing to impede us," the Keridahl said. "Merely to inform those above of intruders. It will take some little time for me to disable it without alerting Falcon Black."
Without further ado he lost himself in the opening series of gestures for most common spells. After watching him for a short while, Medair belatedly remembered to share around her supplies. They sat down to eat and wait, all lost in their own thoughts. Islantar was watching her and she wondered if he was not convinced by her assurance that she had no intention of suiciding. That way out now seemed a very pointless thing to do, even if she were no longer a proud Imperial herald, walking confidently down a clear and just path.
"Go through," Cor-Ibis said, the picture of concentration. He waited until they had travelled some distance further before following. Medair's arcane strength was too limited to allow her to sense the detect, but the power must be costing Cor-Ibis to blind it was enough to make her worry about mages in the castle above.
"The tunnel slopes up," Kel ar Haedrin said, but no-one answered. The quiet was unnerving and Cor‑Ibis' plan, necessarily vague in the face of so many unknowns, now seemed wholly inadequate. They were outnumbered, even if the patrol and the guards in the blockhouses were all that remained of Estarion's forces. And Vorclase.
