She gestured me to stand beside her and pointed to a plant that grew at the lip of the well itself. It had wide leaves of dark green veined with white, and I did not remember ever seeing its like before.
“Take a leaf,” she told me, “and with it dip to fill this bowl.”
The leaf, pinched, gave forth a pleasant aroma, and it seemed to twist almost of its own will into a cup, so I might spoon water into the bowl. The water in the well was very high, its surface only a little” below the level of its stone rim. Three times did I dip and pour before she said, “Enough!”
She held the bowl between her hands and raised it, blowing gently on the liquid within so it was riffled by her breath.
“It is not water of the Ninth Wave, which is the best of all for this purpose, but it will do.”
She ceased to puff, and the water was smooth. Over it she gave me one of those compelling looks that had always brought my obedience.
“Think of Cyart! Hold him as a picture in your mind.”
I tried to draw a mind picture of my uncle as last I had looked upon him, when he had drunk the stirrup cup of my pouring before riding south. I was surprised that the months between had dulled my memory so quickly, because I found it hard to recall him with any clarity. Yet I had known him all my life long.
“There is that about you” – Dame Math looked at me narrowly – “which gainsays this. What do you have on you, Joisan, which obstructs the Power?”
What did I have about me? My hand went to my bosom where lay in hiding. Reluctantly, urged to this by the stern eyes of Dame Math, I brought forth the globe.
“Hang it over there!”
Such was her authority that I obeyed her, looping the chain near one of those straw people lashed to a branch. She watched and then turned her gaze again to the bowl.
“Think of Cyart!” she demanded once again.
Now it was as if a door opened and I could see him, clear in every detail.
“Brother!” I heard Dame Math cry out. Then there were no more words, only a desolate sound. She stared down into the small bowl, her face very bleak and old.
“So be it.” She took one step and then another, turned over the bowl and let the water splash back into the well. “So be it!”
Harsh, startlingly clear, a sound tore the morning air, the alarm gong from the keep tower! That which we had feared for so long had come upon us-the enemy was in sight!
The pony whinnied and jerked at its tether, so I reached for the reins. As I struggled to control the frightened animal, the gong continued to beat. Its heavy ring sounded in echoes from the hills like the thunder of a rising storm. I saw Dame Math hold out the bowl as if offering it to some unseen presence, allowing it to drop into the well. Then she came to me. The need for action was like youth poured into her frail body. Yet her face was one knowing hope no longer, looking forward into a night without end.
“Cyart has dreamed his final dream,” she said, as she mounted the sweating pony. Of him she did not speak again; perhaps because she could not. For a moment or two I wondered what she had seen in the bowl. Then the alarm shook everything from my mind save the fact that we must discover what was happening at the keep.
The news was ill indeed, and Dagale broke it to us as to marshaled his men for what all knew could be no defense, only a desperate attempt to buy time for the rest of us. The invaders were coming upriver, the easiest road to us from the coast. They had boats, our scouts reported, that were not sailed or oared, but still moved steadily against the current, And we of Ithkrypt had little time.
We had long ago decided that to remain in the keep and to be battered out of it was deadly folly. It was better for those who could not fight to take to the hills and struggle westward So we had even rehearsed such retreats.
At the first boom of the gong, the herdsmen had been on the move, and the women and children also, riding ponies or tramping away with their bundles, heading west. I went swiftly to my chamber, pulled on with haste my mail coat and my sword, and took up my heavy cloak and the saddle bags in which I had packed what I could. Yngilda was gone, garments thrown on the floor, her portion of our chamber looking as if it had already been plundered.
I sped down the hall to the short stairs and up to Dame Math’s room. She sat there in her high-backed chair, resting across her knees something I had never seen in her hands before, a staff, or wand. It was ivory white, and along its surface were carven runes.
“Dame – your cloak – your bag – “ I looked about me for those that we were to have ever-ready. But her chamber was as it had always been; there was no sign she meant to quit it. “We must be off!” I hoped she was not so weak she could not rise and go. I could aid her, to be sure, but I had not the strength to carry her forth.
She shook her head very slowly. Now I saw her breath came in gasps, as if she could not draw enough air into her laboring lungs.
“Go – “ A whispering voice came with visible effort from her. “Go-at-once-Joisan!”
“I cannot leave you here. Dagale will fight to cover our going. But he will not hold the keep. You know what has been decided.”
“I know – and – “ She raised the wand. “For long I have followed the Flame and put aside all that I once knew. But when hope is gone and the heart also, then may one fight as best one can. I do now what I must do, and in the doing perhaps I may avenge Cyart and those who rode with him.” As she spoke, her voice grew stronger word by word, and she straightened in her chair, though she made no effort to rise from it.
“We must go!” I put my hand on her shoulder. Under my touch she was firm and hard, and I knew that, unwilling, I could not force her from her seat.
“You must go, Joisan. For you are young, and there may still be a future before you. Leave me. This is the last command I shall lay upon you. Leave me to my own reckoning with those who will come-at their peril!”
She dosed her eyes, and her lips moved to shape words I could not hear, as if she prayed. But she did not turn her prayer hoops, only kept tight hold on the wand. That moved as if it had the power to do so of itself. Its point dropped to the floor and there scratched back and forth busily as if sketching runes, yet it left no marks one could see.
I knew that her will was such she could not now be stirred. Nor did she look up to bid me any farewell when I spoke one to her. It was as if she had withdrawn into some far place and she had forgotten my existence.
Loath to go, I lingered in the doorway, wondering if I could summon men and have her carried out by force, sure she was not now responsible in word or deed. Perhaps she read my thought in my hesitancy, for her eyes opened wide once again, and in her loose grip the wand turned, pointed to me as a spear might be aimed.
‘Tool – in this hour I die – I have read it. Leave me pride of House, girl, and let me do what I can to make the enemy sorry he ever came to Ithkrypt. A blood-debt he already owes me, and that I shall claim! It will not be a bad ending for one of the House of the Broken Sword. See you do as well when your own time is upon you, Joisan.”
The wand twirled as it pointed to me. And I went, nor could I do otherwise, for this was like a geas laid upon me. A will and power greater than my own controlled me utterly.
“Joisan!” The gong no longer beat from the watchtower, so I heard that call of my name. “Joisan, where are you?”
I stumbled down the steps and saw Toross standing there, his war hood laced in place, only a portion of his face visible. “What are you waiting for?” His voice was angry and he strode forward, seized me by the shoulder and dragged me toward the door. “You must mount and ride – as if the night friends themselves were upon us – as well they may be!”