The Tangle Box by Terry Brooks

“My Lord, the bird is yours if you wish him,” Horris Kew declared at once. Biggar squawked anew. “But you should know that he speaks very little, and what he said just now—’Mighty Lord’—is a phrase he learned from the King. In other words, the King taught him to say that about himself.”

Abernathy stared. There was a very long silence. Kallendbor flushed and straightened further, looking as if he might explode. Then slowly the dangerous color drained away.

“Never mind, I don’t wish him after all,” he said disdainfully. “If he is mine to take, that is enough. Let Holiday keep him.” He took a steadying breath. “Now, then. Since we have dispensed with the matter of this bird, what is it you wish?”

“My Lord,” Horris Kew said, jumping in again before Abernathy could speak, “you were right in your assumption. We do bring you a gift, something far more intriguing and useful than a bird. It is called a mind’s eye crystal.”

Kallendbor was interested once more. “Let me see it.”

This time Abernathy was quicker. “We would be happy to show it to you, my Lord, perhaps inside where it is cooler and we can be shown to the quarters that I am sure you have arranged for us as envoys of the King.”

Kallendbor smiled, not a pleasant sight. “Of course, you must be exhausted. Riding is hard for you, I expect. Come this way.”

Abernathy did not miss the intended snub, but he ignored it and the little company followed Kallendbor and his retinue inside to the great hall. Glasses of ale drawn from casks kept cooled in the deep waters of the Bairn and the Cosselburn, the rivers bracketing Rhyndweir, were brought and arrangements were begun for rooms and baths. Kallendbor took them over to an area before a series of doors that opened onto a training field and seated them in a circle of chairs. Most of his retinue was left standing, gathered at their master’s shoulder.

“Now, then, what of this gift?” Kallendbor asked anew.

“It is this, my Lord,” Horris Kew declared, and produced from his clothing one of the mind’s eye crystals.

Kallendbor accepted the crystal and studied it with a frown. “It doesn’t look to be precious. What is its worth? Wait!” He leaned forward, looking now at Abernathy. He pointed at Horris Kew. “Who is this?”

“His name is Horris Kew,” the scribe answered, resisting the urge to add more. “He is at present in service to the King. He is the discoverer of these crystals.”

“These crystals?” Kallendbor turned back to Horris Kew. “There are more than one? How many are there?’

“Thousands,” the conjurer replied, smiling. “But each is special. Hold it before you, my Lord, so that it catches the light and then look into it”

Kallendbor studied him suspiciously for a moment, then did as he was bidden. He held the crystal out to catch a streamer of sunlight, then bent down to peer into its depths. He remained that way until the crystal seemed to ignite with white fire, then gasped and jerked back sharply, but kept his eyes fixed. Suddenly he was open mouthed, bending close once more, a bright gleam in his eyes. “No, is it so?” he muttered. “Is it possible?”

Then he snatched the crystal from view, shutting off its light and whatever the light had shown him. “All of you, out!” he demanded to those peering over his shoulder expectantly. “Now!”

They disappeared with surprising quickness, and when they were gone Kallendbor looked again at Horris Kew. “What are these?” he hissed. “What power do they command?”

Horris seemed confused. “Why, they … they offer visions of many things, my Lord—visions peculiar to each holder. They are a diversion, nothing more.”

Kallendbor shook his head. “Yes, but … do they show the future, perhaps? Tell me that.”

“Well, yes, perhaps,” Horris Kew went along, no fool he. “To some, of course, not to everyone.”

And suddenly Abernathy found himself wondering if perhaps it was so. Horris himself did not seem to know the truth of the matter, but what if Kallendbor’s guess was right? Did that mean that the visions shown might come to pass? Did it mean that Abernathy might be seeing himself not as he had been but as he would be again?

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