The Commanding Stone Part 7

"Let's discuss what we do know," he said, and started to count off on his fingers. "First, the Vanil lived in these lands before the coming of the Atalari, and were long gone when the Atalari got here, which means there hasn't been a living Vanil in Osseria for well over fourteen thousand years. What's next?"

"We don't know what happened to them," Abaru said. "Whether they died out, migrated somewhere else, or...something. I don't know. Were killed off by something else."

"Considering how powerful they were rumored to be, I'd hate to think about what kinds of creatures might have been able to eradicate them. And don't forget I've seen one. It was a d.a.m.n impressive being.

"But, regardless of what may have happened, their disappearance is unexplained. Also, until one showed up here in the Tirthaig, no one was sure if they were real beings or part of some mythic folklore to scare Atalari children. The stories said that the Vanil could consume souls and therefore prevent them from reaching the afterlife."

"My mother used to tell me stories like that to make me eat my dinner," said Abaru.

"I can't imagine that you ever needed a threat in order to eat a meal."

"You never tasted my mother's cooking. That's why I eat so much now. To make up for all that time I spent as a starving child."

"Anyway, we know now they're real. And that this soul-devouring power they have appears to be real, too, considering what happened to the king. I could sense his soul being torn from his body. Gerin felt it too."

"The amulet Rahmdil found came to life, signaling that a Vanil was walking Osseria," said Abaru. "Sometime later, one appears in the Tirthaig, kills the king, kneels to Gerin, and then vanishes."

"It was drawn to Gerin. That much is obvious."

"But why? Why him and not someone else?"

"He is the only amber wizard in the world," said Hollin.

"Yes, but then why didn't a Vanil appear when Naragenth was alive?"

The two men were quiet as they pondered the question of what had drawn the Vanil to Gerin.

"Maybe it was the Staff of Naragenth," said Abaru. Then he shook his head. "No, because we're back to wondering why it didn't draw the Vanil when Naragenth created it."

"Gerin didn't have the staff with him when the Vanil appeared," said Hollin. His eyes widened and he sat up straighter. "But he did have that b.l.o.o.d.y sword of his! In fact, the Vanil pointed to it before it vanished."

"Yes, yes. I think we're on to something. But how do we test it? I don't think we should have your young apprentice try to call the d.a.m.n thing."

"Absolutely not. But I do think this is close to the answer." Hollin stood. "Come on. There's not much more we can do at the moment. I need a drink."

Gerin was in his study when the two wizards arrived to tell him their theory that the Vanil might have been drawn to the power of his sword.

"And why do you think this?" he asked.

They explained that the weapon was the only thing unique to Gerin that Naragenth didn't share.

"But you're a.s.suming it never appeared to Naragenth," said Gerin. "Maybe it did. It's not as if we're overflowing with accounts of his life. Maybe it appeared to him in secret. Maybe it showed him how to construct the Varsae Estrikavis and his staff."

"Hmmm. We didn't think of that," said Hollin.

Gerin was about to ask another question when he heard a faint musical sound, like bells or chimes. They had a strange sound to them, a kind of echo, as if they were sounding in some vast chamber. He wondered what was making the sound since there were no chimes or bells in his rooms or anywhere else in this part of the Tirthaig. It also was not time for the city's bells to be ringing.

"Do you hear that?" he asked the other two.

Abaru made a dismissive gesture. "Just some bells." He took a large swallow of wine.

But Hollin was frowning, sitting up straighter in his chair. "No, not just bells. There's power in it."

Something moved at the edge of Gerin's vision. He turned toward the corner of the room, where he saw the apparition of a man.

He stood so quickly that his chair flew out from behind him and toppled over, cracking loudly against the floor. The other wizards turned, saw the apparition, and a.s.sumed defensive postures. Gerin noted that Abaru moved amazingly fast for a man of his size. He drew magic into himself and felt the others do the same.

"How did you get in here?" Gerin asked.

The apparition was very tall, and far thinner than a living man could be. The edges of its form were blurred and wavering, as if seen through a depth of water. Its long hair floated about its head in defiance of gravity-again, giving Gerin the strong impression that the apparition was in some way submerged.

Its face was narrow and unremarkable, devoid of any kind of readable expression. Only its eyes were alive, deep green with yellow vertical slits for pupils. Those eyes darted about the room as if cataloging its contents. When its penetrating gaze fell upon Gerin, he could almost feel the weight of it pressing against him, as if it were trying to lay bare the deepest secrets of his heart.

It seemed to be wearing a dark robe, but this was so indistinct that Gerin could not be sure. The apparition was translucent, insubstantial, and kept to the side of the room farthest from the sunlight.

"I ask again, how did you get into the palace? I won't ask a third time."

Hollin fas.h.i.+oned a Warding between them and the apparition. The being looked directly at it, obviously aware of its creation, even though the spell should not have been visible to nonwizards.

"Your spells are not necessary," it said. When it spoke, the sounds of the bells grew louder. Its voice had a musical quality to it that Gerin found beautiful and soothing, though it also sounded distant, as if coming from far beyond the walls of the room.

"What are you?" asked Hollin.

"I am an akesh, sent by the Telchan of the Watchtowers." It faced Gerin and grew larger, expanding like a sponge dropped into water. "I have come to give you a message."

"The Watchtowers!" said Abaru.

"What is your message?" said Gerin. "I'll listen to what you have to say, but only if you agree to answer my questions."

"I cannot," it said. "The power of the Telchan is not in words. It is difficult for me to be here. You must listen.

"If you wish to learn the secret of the Words of Making, you must come to the Watchtowers, to the en pulyan ar-anglota, so that we may tell you what we know. Our knowledge is not in words as you understand them and cannot be sent such distances. Even now I grow dim."

It was true. As Gerin watched, the apparition grew more transparent, its edges fading into the air like ink bleeding off a wet page. "You must come to us. This time we will permit your pa.s.sage."

Then it was gone.

Gerin realized how tense he was and made an effort to relax. "What in the name of all that's holy was that about?" He released the magic he'd drawn into himself. "I didn't understand a thing it said. What's an akesh? Or a Telchan? And what in Shayphim's name are the Watchtowers, for that matter?"

Abaru gave his empty cup a quizzical stare. "I don't think I had that much to drink."

Gerin had to resist a very strong urge to punch Abaru in the side of the head. "Do either of you have any idea what just happened here?"

Hollin was clearly troubled. "We'll tell you what we can, but I fear that may not make this any clearer."

Gerin recovered his chair and sat back down at the table. "Abaru, since you have heard of the Watchtowers, why don't you start there. What are they? Where are they?"

Abaru gestured for Hollin to speak. "They're located in a range of mountains," said Hollin, "whose name now escapes me-"

"The Ozul," said Abaru.

"The Ozul Mountains. The Watchtowers are somewhere along the southern end of the range, on the western side."

"Isn't that Threndish territory?" asked Gerin.

"Whether the Threndish lay claim to those lands or not is irrelevant," said Hollin. "They have no authority or control over the Towers. No one does."

"Have you ever been there?"

Hollin shook his head. "No. No wizard has ever set foot in them. Wizards, in fact, are forbidden from going there. It's been a proscribed place for centuries."

This intrigued Gerin. "Why? What happened?"

Hollin looked at Abaru. "Do you remember the details? I know it happened seven or eight hundred years ago. The wizard who started all of the trouble, Parcla-something..."

"Paraclade." Abaru straightened a little. "His name was Paraclade. From what I recall, he found an old ma.n.u.script that mentioned the incredible wealth and power to be gained by anyone who could enter the Watchtowers. It said the inhabitants watch and record all things that occur in Osseria. Many wizards at the time dismissed the ma.n.u.script-apparently it was riddled with inaccuracies and all kinds of fanciful nonsense-but Paraclade became obsessed with the place and decided to lead an expedition to take the Towers by force if they couldn't get in peacefully."

"I'm surprised an Archmage would go along with something like that," said Gerin.

"The Archmage at the time didn't go along with it. He forbid the expedition, but Paraclade had gained so much influence and so many followers-he was apparently a rather talented demagogue-that there was a very real threat of a rebellion. In the end the Archmage allowed Paraclade and a few hundred of his followers to march on the Watchtowers."

"So what happened?" asked Gerin. "What did they find? You said no wizard has ever entered them, so I'm guessing they didn't get in."

"When they reached the Towers, a wall of flame sprang from the ground to block their path. The wizards spent days trying to break it down, but they couldn't even make a dent in it."

"Think about that," added Hollin. "Hundreds of wizards working in concert to break down a single barrier, and they failed."

"The akesh knew about Paraclade," said Gerin. "That must be what it was referring to when it said, 'This time we will permit your pa.s.sage.'" He pondered the image of a wall of flame standing in defiance of wizardly power. "The fact that they couldn't gain entry somewhat validates Paraclade's belief that there's something of importance in those Towers."

"And he made that exact same argument when he finally gave up and returned to Hethnost," said Abaru. "But his failure effectively broke his power, and he never regained it. The Archmage officially declared the Towers a proscribed place. Any wizard who ventured there would be banished from Hethnost."

"Is that proscription still in effect?" asked Gerin.

"As far as I know," said Abaru. "I don't think anyone's given it much thought, but it would take a declaration from another Archmage to repeal it."

"So if I go, I'm breaking more rules."

"I think it's premature to decide whether or not anyone's going there," said Hollin.

Gerin was not going to argue with Hollin, but he already knew he was going there whether the old wizard consented or not.

"Who's in them?" he asked. "You mean to say that these Towers are millennia old, but no one ever comes out? Who made them?"

"We don't know," said Hollin. "Whoever's in them has tremendous power at their command, as Paraclade's expedition discovered. But that's all we know."

"What was that other phrase it said?" asked Gerin. "It said I had to go to a specific place." He snapped his fingers as he recalled it. "The en pulyan ar-anglota. It sounds Osirin but I don't recognize the words."

"It's Osirin all right," said Abaru. "A very old form, one that has long gone out of use. It means 'place of learning.'"

"If they've kept hidden in their Towers for so long, why would they contact me now?" asked Gerin. "And how did they know about the Words of Making to begin with?"

"It's impossible to know," said Hollin. "Perhaps they truly can see events that occur all across the continent."

"Can you imagine the knowledge they must have acc.u.mulated if that's true?" asked Gerin. "It might put the Varsae Estrikavis to shame."

"Or they could be interested in tax payments, tariffs, crop yields, and other bureaucratic drudgery," said Abaru. "And the minutiae of rug weaving and cow defecation. Never overestimate someone's ability to be boring. It helps lessen the sting of disappointment."

"I'm going to the Watchtowers," Gerin announced. "You both are welcome to come along, but please don't waste your breath trying to talk me out of it. I don't care if it's proscribed or not. If this displeases the Archmage, so be it, but I've been invited, and I plan on accepting."

He waited for the older wizards to object, to tell him he was being rash, that they needed to discuss this further before making any decisions. It didn't matter. The akesh claimed it could tell him the secret of the Words of Making. That alone was worth the journey.

The other wizards both nodded. "I agree," said Hollin. "I think you should go. This invitation, as you call it, is far too unique to ignore. Of course, I'll accompany you."

"So will I," said Abaru. "I wouldn't want to miss the chance to peek inside the Towers."

"Good," said Gerin. He let go of the counterarguments he'd been ready to make. "It's settled then. We'll leave as soon as I can make arrangements."

7.

The garden on the grounds of Castle Tolthean had been built by Guthwen Toresh for his sickly bride Morweil a century ago. A waist-high stone wall enclosed the grounds on seven sides; one side of a square five-story tower delineated the eighth. Flowers were in bloom everywhere, cl.u.s.ters of them interspersed at regular intervals among tall shade trees. At the center of the garden, all of the paths converged on a sacred grove dedicated to the sea G.o.d Paerendras and his wife Nielas.

A salty wind blew from the sea, whose choppy surface was visible over the garden's eastern wall. At the wall's midpoint was a monument to the Twins, the G.o.ds Volraneth and Merel, charged with lighting the stars each night and keeping the sun and moon on their courses. The Twins had been the favorite G.o.ds of Morweil, who died during the birth of her first child.

A shame they didn't tear down these miserable gardens after her death, thought Claressa as she stared out over the sea. The a.s.sault of fragrances from the flowers caused her no end of sneezing fits and watery eyes. At the moment, the stiff wind from the sea was helping to keep her head clear, but she knew that as she made her way back through the gardens, her sinuses would swell and her temples begin to throb.

The sea, though...that, she loved more than she would have thought possible. She'd enjoyed it on her visits to Almaris before her marriage, but her sea journey to Tolthean had stirred something new within her. The sound of it, the smell of it, how it constantly changed yet remained the same, the mysteries hidden in its boundless depths. It called to her heart in a way she found impossible to describe yet equally impossible to ignore.

Right now the sight of the ocean far below her was the only thing keeping her sane. The inane chattering of her ladies-in-waiting was enough to make her want to toss the lot of them from the parapet. They sat on a stone bench a few feet behind her, gossiping like a gaggle of hens. She tried to ignore them, but they were speaking too loudly for her to completely shut them out.

"He's so handsome!" cooed Trene. "I make sure to pa.s.s by the stables as much as I can, even if it's out of my way."

"Does he even know you exist?" said Elezan.

"He waved and smiled at me yesterday!"

"How much of your t.i.ts did you flash him to make that happen?" said Elezan.

"You're just jealous because I've got some to show."

"He's not part of the castle household," said Verdel. "He goes back to Ordeas at night."