Standing there, I suddenly realized what it was my mind had been searching out since Mazlek had brought me to the mountains-that half-unconscious quest, without a known goal. I had been trying to remember the word which Asren had written in the book, the beautiful book I had meant to bring with me from Belhannor, and had left behind because there had been no time to plan. And now I realized that oddly I had examined the letters, the character in the formation of that word so closely that I had not seen what the word was in itself. Whatever importance it had had for him. or for myself, was lost. A trivial thing, perhaps, but it troubled me. The last, the only, item I had had of him had slipped from my possession and my memory forever.
A movement caught my eye, unexpected in this place, where sky and mountains seemed locked in ancient immobility.
291
I looked across the rock shapes, then lifted my eyes, and incredibly found the answer in the black drift overhead. Between the fixed scatter of stars, three other stars, larger and very bright, sailing in the form of an arrowhead, southward. Ankurum, and the street, so late or early, and the moving silver light I had watched with Darak, the light Asutoo had watched also, and taken as a god-chariot, an omen to betray. The three glittering things slid over the tower, out of my sight.
I was afraid, more than that primitive fear because I could not understand the lights in the sky. I turned and faced the room as if an enemy waited for me. There was in this place-something-something I feared yet must find, deep in the bones of the tower. I had sensed it from the beginning, but the silver star chariots of Asutoo’s gods had peeled away the last layers of my blindness.
In the morning the limping girl brought a pitcher of water, a silver cup of the wine drink, and a little later returned with a selection of silk and velvet clothes, and a silver mask-a curious shape which seemed to be the head of a lynx. Apparently the tower Warden had sent these things, and I wondered to whom they had belonged. Perhaps to an absent wife or lady, for he appeared to keep neither here at present. They were all shades and tones of Eshkorek yellow and rather full, but that seemed suited to my condition. The mask presented a subtle problem. The Warden’s rank would not entitle him to wear the gold, and therefore he could not provide a golden mask for me. and yet, if only by chance, I was demoted by going in silver now. Yellow strings hung from the lynx head over my hair, each one ending in an exquisite marigold carved from yellow amber.
Mazlek came up the stairs soon after. I saw his eyes take in the silver mask, and then discard the thought which had come to him, as it had to me.
“What is happening, Mazlek?”
“A man has been sent to the City to inform the Javhoyor that Vazkor is here.”
“Vazkor’s Javhovor,” I said softly.
“Yes, goddess. Vazkor’s men expect immediate loyal help from that quarter-honored welcome into Eshkorek Arnor, a war council, fresh troops-but things are not so simple, goddess, I think.”
“Why?”
292
“This man, the Warden-he is very uneasy. I don’t think Vazkor is a welcome guest either to himself or his master.”
I remembered Vazkor’s words on the road, harsh, affirmative. Yet he could do nothing without the support of the Cities of the desert. If he had lost it, what would become of him?
“Where is Vazkor?” I asked Mazlek.
“A room on the east side of the tower. One man keeps guard outside the door, and no one has seen him since last night.”
“Mazlek,” I said, abruptly anxious to put Vazkor from my mind, and attack my fears of this fortress instead, “there is something in this place-something I must find.”
“Goddess.”
He was quite ready to follow me, to protect me, yet he did not understand. I think I had half hoped he might have sensed also the secret feeling of the tower. A sort of mental intimacy had seemed to grow between us during the flight from Belhannor; we had spoken little, yet things had been clear enough. I was reminded of Slor suddenly, and the blind offering of his life for mine, and thrust the thought away.
“I have explained badly,” I said. “I do not know what troubles me here, even if anything exists to trouble me. But I have to search until I find it, or fail to find it.” I discovered I had locked my hands together tensely. “Something hidden,” I said.
He went after me, down the flights of stairs, to the oval dark hall, needing candles even in daylight, and stood ready behind me as I spoke to one of the three gray soldiers lounging there. I noted they did not leap to instant attention at my entrance, as they would for the golden cat goddess of Ezlann, and I learned a lot from that.
“Where is the Warden? I should like to speak to him.”
“The lord Warden hasn’t yet risen, lady.”
Even the title-miserly enough-was delivered with a certain sneering slur. He found it easy to forget who I was-who I had been?
“Soldier,” I said, “I am Uastis of Ezlann, Reincarnate of the Old Race, wife to Vazkor Javhovor, Overlord of White Desert. I am addressed as “goddess” by men who are standing on their feet, and have bowed their heads to me first.”
There was an uneasy shuffling from the table as the soldier’s two companions got up from their chairs, and stood awkwardly, in positions of uncertain respect. The man I had
293
spoken to, however, seemed unimpressed, and my words tempted him into insolence.
“I have heard of a goddess,” he said, “in Ezlann. And then, lady, you wore a plain mask when you came here, and a plain robe, too. Those things … well, they’re the Warden’s bounty, if I recall correctly.”
I did not feel angry, only knew I dared not let my authority fall out of appreciation, here, of all places, where I sensed so much danger.
“Soldier,” I said, and I walked close to him, and stared at his eyes behind the bronze mask, eyes slippery, and unwilling to be caught. “Men do not insult me twice. Since you need proof of me, I am afraid I must give it. You will not forget who I am. Lift your hand.” He whimpered, and I knew I had him then. “My touch is fire, the brand to you.”
I laid one finger on his naked palm, and he screamed.
“Go free!” I hissed, and the trance broke from him. He ran back, nursing his blisters, sobbing with shock and fright. “Now,” I said, “you say the Warden has not yet risen. Go and tell him to rise. I shall expect to see him here before that candle stub has burned out.”
This time, I was obeyed.
I glanced at Mazlek, and his eyes had narrowed behind the mask in a malicious grin, proud of me and my ferocious powers. I sat down to wait, and watched the door across the yellow velvet hump of my belly.
In fact, the Warden was not long in coming, masked and ringed, yet still in his bedrobe. He took off the mask, bowed, and put it on again. I wondered if he had heard anything of the scene in the hall. I could see he wanted to draw nearer to the hearth where a fire was eating a breakfast of loss. He shivered meaningfully, but I sat where I was and left him to suffer. I was not certain how I should begin my interrogation, or even if I had been wise to start with him, and any advantage was a comfort.
“Good morning, Warden. I find I must thank you for my wardrobe.”
“Nothing.” He bowed again.
“Your hospitality is most welcome to the Lord Vazkor and myself.”
“I-I trust the Javhovor is in better health today-some illness on the journey, I believe.”
I noted that he had called Vazkor “Javhovor” only, not “overlord.”
294
“No illness,” I said carefully, “merely fatigue. But Eshkorek will provide him with rest.” My host gave a little nervous laugh. “Tell me,” I said, “this is surely a fortress; why is there no garrison?”
“Oh, but there has been no garrison for many, many years. A remote spot, and very little to capture, even if an army should cross the mountains from Purple Valley.”
“As it well may,” I said. He started. “You surely know of the havoc we left behind us, warden? It would be advisable for the Cities of White Desert to hold together under this threat.” Again a little start, as if I had probed into a bad tooth. Certainly there was trouble then, for Vazkor, and so perhaps for myself, but I set it aside. “I am curious, Warden,” I said. “I am curious because, if there is no garrison, why is there a holding here at all?”