This was a man—at least one who had been a man. He was not born to the Power, but must depend upon lifeless machines to serve him as our minds and spirits served us. Therefore, for all his trappings, he was not really one to stand full equal to a witch out of Estcarp.
Yet there was Hilarion, an adept, who had fallen into Zandur’s web. Yes, my mind rationalized swiftly, but Hilarion had come here unprepared, had been entrapped before he was truly aware of the danger. I—I could have safeguards.
“Kaththea of the House of Tregarth,” he repeated as one would mock a child by reiterating a simple statement. “I know nothing of this Tregarth, be it country or clan. But it would seem that you have that which I can use, once we fix you even as we have this other—” He waved to Hilarion.
“And it is best for you, Kaththea of the House of Tregarth, that you do as we would have you, since the penalty for doing otherwise is not such as you would wish to face a second time—though it is true you are a stubborn lot if you are akin to this other.”
I did not answer him; best not be drawn into any argument. Many times is speech weakness, silence strength. I was sure that Zandur could not read my mind without his machines, which I distrusted deeply. Thus I could plan and not be uncovered in that planning.
It would seem that his gray men did not need spoken orders; perhaps he controlled them as I had tried with Ayllia. They split into two parties and marched into the obscurity of the chamber somewhere behind me. I did not turn to see them go, not wishing to lose sight of their master.
He seated himself before one of the small boards, releasing the chair to turn and face me. There was about him an air of ease which to me spelled danger. . . . If he deemed me so well in his control perhaps I had against me more than I could imagine.
Ayllia? She had not come into sight at the far corner of the dais, nor had she headed for the arch. Therefore she must now be before Hilarion. And Zandur and a single gray man, still in his own seat, were alone—for the moment.
I did not close my eyes in strict concentration, but at that moment I aimed my call, seeing that I might have no better moment for attack.
“Jaelithe—Simon!”
Instantly came their answer, full, strong—as if protecting arms were about my shoulders, a shield moved to stand between me and sword point. There is an old tale that if one with Power wishes to sever two who have caused tears and heartache to one another for all eternity he or she shakes a cloak between them. I could almost believe in that moment that the cloak was before me, that I could see, feel it. Still that sense of protection, though it continued to abide with me, did not cloud my present purpose.
“What need you?” came my mother’s quick question.
“To deal with Zandur—now!”
“Draw.” She gave both consent and order in that word.
I drew because of my crippled need, and there flowed into me such strength as I had not known since the days I walked with Dinzil. All I had regained through Utta’s teaching and my own seeking was as a single pale candle’s shine compared to the full sun of midday. And that power I pulled and shaped into a beam of command, seeking again my answer to Zandur.
“Ayllia!”
This time there was no failure: my command, my enveloping force swept into the barbarian girl. I filled her with my purpose, not daring in my extremity to remember I was doing this to a living person, for she was my only weapon for all our safety.
There were a few moments of strange disorientation when I looked through my own eyes at the lounging Zandur and the dais, but I also had another glimpse of the fore of the pillar as Ayllia must be seeing it.
Then I concentrated on that second seeing. I had never before ruled another so, save under carefully controlled experimentation in the Place of Silence when I was a novice. This was so dire a thing that one’s spirit sickened as might one’s body if put in a place where no human had a right to be. But I fought that sickness and kept my place in Ayllia.
At first her body answered me clumsily. It was as if I were one of the traveling puppet masters who used to come on harvest feast days to the manor markets—yet an inept one, as I handled the strings controlling the arms and legs awkwardly, making them slew in the wrong directions.
Still, I dared not be clumsy if I could help it. So I did not try to totter to my feet, but turned and crept as Ayllia herself had earlier crept, heading in the direction from which she had come. If I could so reach the same step where she had been I would be able to make my move at the right time.
Now I was no longer conscious of Jaelithe and Simon, only of the strong, ever-flowing current they gave to me. And I hurried faster, each passing breath of time giving me more control over Ayllia’s body, though I did not try as yet to do more than take it back to the spot not far from Zandur.
I came to the far side of the dais, and along that to the corner from which I could see Zandur in his chair still facing the four blazing rods which held—me.
Seldom is it given one to look upon one’s self save in a mirror. And now when I tried it I had a sensation of dizziness, of whirling into some space which was neither here nor there, that I speedily averted my eyes and kept them fixed on Zandur.
Fear marched forward with every measure I gained. Why the master of this prison had not already turned to sight me I could not understand. It seemed to me that the generation of such energy as had brought me to this desperate move would touch him. It was almost as if an invisible line spun across the open air tying the me in the cage of light rods to the me who crawled in Ayllia’s body.
At last I came to the place where Ayllia had lain when first I saw her. There I paused for some long breaths. If Zandur turned now and sighted me, I might still be safe. But if I proceeded, as now I must, to a point behind him, I had a long, or what seemed a very long space of open to cover, during which journey I would be instantly suspect if sighted.
He stood up and, involuntarily, I cringed. But he did not turn his head. He was instead looking into the depths of the chamber to a point beyond the cage of rods. There was a stir there as his gray men returned. Now he came to stand before the cage. Could he tell that I was not in my rightful body? I must depend upon the fact that he had none of the real gift, and things instantly visible to an adept would not be so to him.
Now I must dare my last move along the step, rising to my feet at last and running to a point directly behind him, willing all the way that he would not turn to see me. Now much would depend upon expert timing. I made my last impressions on Ayllia’s sleeping mind. This must she do when the time came; I set that command as deeply and strongly as all the renewed strength I could call upon gave. Then I returned to myself. Between my hands, ready, was the wand. The gray men had reached an area where I could see them without turning my head. They bore, some singly, some together, a number of objects. And these Zandur went to sort, sending some to one side of the dais, assembling the burdens of others closer to my cage.
Instinct told me that I would only have a few moments at the best, no more than a heartbeat or two at the least. And for that I must be ready. I waited. I could see Ayllia standing on the dais. Her eyes were open, fixed on mine, and a touch assured me that she was filled with the need to obey the last command I had left in her. Zandur came to stand before me again. “Now, my Kaththea of the House of Tregarth,” he said mockingly, “and well do I call you mine, since you shall do my will from this hour forth. But be not downhearted at such a fate. Will you not now be one to live forever, knowing life as you have not been privileged to taste it before? No, you will have much to thank me for, once you have learned to accept my wisdom, Kaththea of the House of Tregarth.”