The Dragonbards

Chapter 24

Within Quazelzeg’s eastern palace there is a door made of gold that can open by a warping of time and place into the Castle of Doors— just as the door in the sunken city did. Yet only if our own power falters does Quazelzeg hold certain control over his private gold door.

*

Teb and Seastrider left well before it was light. His thoughts were filled with what lay ahead, but filled, too, with Thakkur’s dark eyes watching him. He had so strong a sense of Thakkur that the white otter might almost have been with him. His mind echoed Thakkur’s warnings of danger and foolish pride—and of the foolishness of battling the dark alone. Thakkur’s voice rode with him for a long way, unsettling him, nearly making him turn back. But then Thakkur’s more positive words came. I have absolute faith in you, Tebriel—in your goodness. . . .

When thoughts of Thakkur faded, the wind rushed empty around Teb. Alone on the wind, bard and dragon remained silent, winging north toward Aquervell and the city of Sharden.

*

It took Kiri hours to go to sleep. She tossed on her straw pallet, trying not to wake Camery. Her fear for Teb was a blackness that would not leave her. She knew that when she woke in the morning, Teb and Seastrider would be gone—alone. When finally she did sleep, she dreamed a vision so real she thought she and Teb had returned to Nightpool.

She dreamed that Seastrider and Windcaller dropped onto the sea beside Nightpool, and all around them otters came hurrying out of caves, shouting and hah-hahing in greeting. She dreamed that she and Teb followed Thakkur and Hanni into the sacred cave amid a press of eager, fishy-smelling otters. There, Thakkur turned and looked at her with such powerful concern and said, “I can give you this, I can give Tebriel this, though it pains me.”

She dreamed that the clamshell had brightened, and when the vision came, all who watched were caught in the black emptiness between worlds. She saw the ivory lyre lying alone, across ancient white bones. She saw Quazelzeg moving through dark worlds following a shadow she could not make out, and she screamed with fear for Teb. She awoke sweating and cold.

In his palace at Aquervell, Quazelzeg followed Meriden in vision, meaning to turn her back to Tirror, where his power over her would be greatest. She kept retreating, glancing back at him, laughing as she slipped in and out of shifting dimensions beside the white dragon. He did not like her mockery; he did not like the insolent turn of her head. She thought that she led him, that she had drawn him through again. But this was only a vision. He would follow her thus until she fled from him into evils she had not dreamed; then she would beg for his help.

A river lay ahead. Meriden and the dragon flew across it. Rivers contained creatures friendly to him, and he stepped in. When slimy hands reached, he smiled. This was, after all, only vision. But the creatures clutched at him. When he pushed them away, their mouths sucked at his hands and arms, burning like fire. He turned, puzzled—she had drawn him through against his will. He brought his power to drive the creatures back, to free himself. But Meriden and the dragon stood before him.

Behind them opened a Door into a cave, and in the cave shone the giant white skeleton of a dragon. Its tall ribs curved up in an arch, and its empty eye sockets held shadows that shifted and threatened him—as if Bayzun’s spirit lived. Meriden smiled coldly.

“The spirit of Bayzun will defeat you,” she said softly “The Ivory Lyre of Bayzun will defeat you.”

Quazelzeg backed away, willed himself away from her; with a terrible effort he willed himself back into his palace.

He stood there shaken.

This moment made an end to games. The woman must be disposed of. He shouted for Shevek. The captain came running.

“I expect to be in Sharden by tomorrow night. I do not relish a long ride. Find a fast ship.”

Shevek nodded.

Quazelzeg smiled. In Sharden his powers would increase. In Sharden he could step through at his own choosing, by the power of the gold Door, and move on within the Castle of Doors readily, to find Meriden. Soon Tebriel would arrive in Sharden, and the spells Quazelzeg had planted within the bard—and the bard’s own weakness—would feed his own power further.

*

Kiri woke to sunlight in her face. Camery’s bed was empty. She lay seeing the dream. Was it a dream? Or, as she slept, had Thakkur given her a vision? Her thoughts were filled with the shadows of dark worlds and with Quazelzeg’s pale, evil face; and with the shock of the ivory lyre lying abandoned across ancient bones. Waking fully, she remembered that Teb would be gone from Auric now, winging over far continents, and she buried her face in her pillow.

At last she rose, washed from the basin of cold water Camery had left, and dressed. She did not feel hungry. She went down the stone flights, thinking only of Teb.

The main hall was crowded with folk packing bundles, wrapping food, mending and oiling harness and boots. The courtyard was the same, as people prepared to journey north. Teb’s desire to hurry northward had flamed through the palace, filling everyone with the need to follow him.

Camery came to join her.

“He wasn’t ready,” Kiri said. “He isn’t ready to face Quazelzeg.”

“No one is completely ready to do that, Kiri. But now, all of Tirror will follow him, to confront those on Aquervell.” Cannery’s green eyes were filled with resolve. “It is time. Teb has made it so. And perhaps our mother has, too.”

Within an hour, the bards and dragons were in the sky, lifting above banks of gray cloud. Below, the march north had begun, flowing out of Auric’s palace and villages, and from the palace at Ratnisbon, gathering more strength as it moved north. Perhaps no one could put logic to this sudden swelling movement, but already it was inevitable and fierce. The dragonbards meant to free all who might join it.

Camery and Marshy moved to the west, bringing song and freedom to the outer islands. Colewolf and Aven followed to the east, touching the larger countries. Kiri and Darba and the two riderless dragonlings moved up through the center of the island mass. Below them the marching numbers swelled as the bards and dragons freed more and more of Turor’s peoples, waking slaves in a sudden all-out attack on the remaining pockets of darkness. Those slaves turned on their masters and killed them. Everywhere, they were joined by the speaking animals. Off the eastern coast, otters flashed through the green waters, led by the two white otters, moving resolutely and unswervingly north.

Thakkur forged on, grimly cleaving through the sea’s swells. He had done all he could. His love was with Teb, his caring and his deep prayers. He felt certain that they approached the last battle, and he knew a dread he did not speak of, a private sadness.