“Our camp.” He stirred the ashes with boot toe. “Long dead. I think it will be safe to stay.”
Once more we dared not light a fire. But this night the moon was bright and clear. I knew that I must look upon my talisman for this search. Though I could not be private, and to let my secret into the keeping of another was hard. Yet it was necessary to know how it fared with Elyn.
Thus when we had eaten, I got out the cup and took away its shielding cloth. Almost I dropped it. For that tarnishing cloud, which had been only a mist, had now deepened about the stem and lower part of the bowl into a black stain. So I knew that ill had come upon Elyn. But, though he was in grave danger he still lived, and would until the cup was entirely black.
“What is it?”
I wished I did not need to answer, but there was no way of escaping Jervon’s interest.
“This warns of my brother’s danger. Before it was only a clouding, now—see this black? As it rises up the cup, so his danger grows. If the cup be all black, he is dead.”
“A third of the way,” he returned. “Have you any way of learning what this danger may be?”
“None—save it is not the chance of war—but bound up in the ways of power. He is caught in some ensorcelment.”
“The Dalesmen do not take to sorcery save as the Wise Women practice it. And the Hounds have their own kind, not rooted in our beliefs at all. So—the Old Ones—“
But I could not think of any way Elyn could so have aroused some ancient evil. He had never had any interest in such matters. I tried to recall my far-seeing—of that bedchamber where the girl had slept while my brother wrenched and levered at bars across a shuttered window.
“Can you far-see?” Jervon asked.
“Not here. I have not the proper things—” Then I wondered.
I had been so schooled by Aufrica that instinctively I thought of all such seeking in patterns she set. But she had always insisted that I had inheritances of stronger powers.
The tie between Elyn and me was close; we were born at one birth; when we looked upon each other we might be looking into a mirror. Therefore—
“Give me the water bottle!”
Jervon passed it over. I took out one of the strips of soft-beaten inner bark which I carried in my pouch for wounds. Into this I rubbed pinches of three of the herbs Aufrica had supplied and then wet it with water from the bottle, washing my hands carefully with the mixture.
Having so purified myself, I took up the cup. Though it held no liquid, I looked into it as I had into the shell basin, striving to shut out of my mind all save Elyn, thus search out where he was and what he did.
Suddenly it was as if I were in the cup, for about me was a silver-white light. Only for a moment did that bedazzle me. Then I was able to see more clearly. Around me stood tall pillars like the trunks of forest trees, save that these were smooth and polished, their slimness unbroken by any branch. Nor did they support any roof; overhead was nothing but moon and star-hung sky.
These pillars stood not in rows, but rather in a spiral so that one entering among them would walk around and around, in and in, to whatever lay at their heart. At that moment I knew a vast fear, like none I had known before, so I could not even think. For what waited at the heart of that spiral was something so far from the way of life I knew that it was utter terror.
Then—that changed. It was as if it suddenly put on a mask or shield. The terror was cut off, and in its place—a drawing—a sensation of wonder, of the need to see the source of that wonder. Yet because I had earlier felt that overwhelming aura of what really lurked there I was repelled and not ensorceled.
Out into the open came a figure, mailed, helmed, with sword at hip, riding a war steed. He dismounted, dropping the reins as if he cared not now whether it should wander or not. And he moved toward the opening of the spiral as if he were called.
I tried to cry out, to force myself between Elyn and that gateway to a darkness far worse than death. But I could not move. My brother approached the beginning of the spiral—
“Elys!” Hands on my shoulders, shaking me. I sat hunched over the cup—the empty cup— The moon was light but there were no pillars, no spiral.
I raised the cup hurriedly to eye level, more than half fearing that that black shadow would have crept higher. For if Elyn was in that pillared way—how could he be saved? But the stain was no greater than it had been before.
“What did you see?” Jervon demanded. “You—it was as if you looked upon some great horror and you cried upon your brother’s name as if you would pull him out of death’s hold by voice alone.”
Jervon knew more of this land than I; surely he would know of the spiraled way—the quickest path! For such a thing of menace would be noted to Dalesmen.
“Listen.” As I covered the cup to stow it away, I told him of that earlier vision—my brother laboring to open the window, then of this later one. “Where lies such a place?”
“Not in Trevamper, or near it,” he returned prompt-ly. “But the barred window—somewhere—sometime I have heard of that.” He rubbed his forehead as if so to summon back a wisp of memory.
“Window—barred window! Yes—the Keep of Coomb Frome! There is an old legend, that from one window in the center tower men can see the far hills. And if they do this at some one hour—they take horse and ride—and from that riding they do not return. Nor can those who seek them thereafter ever find them again. So Coomb Frome was no longer a lord’s house but kept only as a garrison and the window in the tower was close shut. But that all happened in my grandfather’s time.”
“It could be that Coomb Frome is once more a lord’s hold. Did you not say my brother was hand-fasted? By what I have seen he is now wed. Yet he left his lady and went forth to search for that—! I ride to Coomb Frome!”
So we came to that Keep, but our reception there was a surprise. Though when I was first hailed by outpost men as Lord Elyn I did not deny it. It was in my mind to learn what I could of my brother before I asked questions. So I said I had been on scout and they would hear my report in due time. Perhaps a lame explanation, yet they did not protest it, only seemed glad to have me back.
Nor did Jervon deny my story. He looked to me with a question in his eyes, and then away, as if he were willing to accept the role I assumed. I pretended a great desire to see my lady wife, for I had been right, Elyn was wedded to the Lady Brunissende.
Men smiled at that, and some laughed a little and whispered one to the other. I could guess they passed such jests as men do when the newlywed are in their company. Only the eldest, a man of some rank, said my lady had taken hard my going forth and had since kept her chamber. At this I played the role of great concern and set heel to horse rib in urging for speed.
Thus I came into that same chamber I had seen in my vision. And the girl of my dream lay still on the bed, though there was with her now an older woman who had something of the look of Aufrica. So I judged she might be of the Wise company. The girl cried out:
“Elyn!” And started up, running to me, her night-robe all awry, her eyes puffed with past tears, her cheeks tracked by new ones. But the woman stared straight at me; then she raised her hand and made a sign I knew well, so that before I thought, I answered it .
Her eyes went very wide. But Brunissende was upon me, her hands reaching for my shoulders, calling upon my brother’s name, demanding to know where I had been and why I had left her. I put up my hands to hold her a little off for this welcome I found difficult to answer.
Then she pulled away, looking into my face wildly, terror growing in her eyes.
“You are—you are changed! My dear lord—what have they done to you?” She began to laugh shrilly and struck out at me, her nails marking my face before I could catch her hand, screaming I was not as I had been.