The Heart of the mirage

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

the blood-red of his bolero didn't quite match; his hair was longer than usual and more unruly than ever.

The moment my gaze found him, he looked up to see me, and I wondered if he had deliberately stopped where he had just for that purpose.

I brought my cabochon up to my face, close to my eyes, and concentrated. The stone, which I now kept uncovered by skin, began to glow faintly and I used the light bathing my eyes to enhance my vision. Temellin sprang into clarity as though he were close enough to touch. He looked thin and tired; nothing of his laughter was visible on his face any more. The brown eyes regarded me thoughtfully, the mouth was tight.

My body hungered, my heart grieved, the sight of him lacerated me. Temellin. My cousin. I could have bedded him without guilt, if he would have had me. Well, perhaps not quite without guilt. What my blood-father had done to save me had left me with a burden that would last forever.

Tears came to my eyes and Temellin blurred back into a distant figure mounted on his shleth. I opened up my palm and flattened it against the glass of the window in a gesture of greeting and farewell. I thought I saw him begin to raise a hand in acknowledgement, but the gesture died half made and he turned away, urging his mount along with the others.

I sat by the window looking down the road for a long while after it was empty of people. The Mirage Makers created a flock of pink flamingos for me to look at, and then – perhaps because the birds looked a little lost standing on the cobblestone road – added a marshy pond with waterlilies. None of it eased my torment.

I had finally thought it all through: a story of betrayal and tragedy that started when I w§s a chiV1

and wasn't finished yet because I was the one who held the endings, and I didn't know which one to write into Kardiastan's history. I may have thought it all through, but I still didn't know what to do.

It had all started because a woman took her daughter away from the child's father. Magoria-wendia removed Sarana from the palace because she thought the Mirager-solad was ruining the child with his lavish spoiling. I could even remember some of the arguments now, the incomprehensible shouting matches between two much-loved parents, arguments so shattering to a child not quite three. Far distant memories: running, barefoot, across polished agate floors into my father's arms. Adoring him, feeling safe and loved in his strong clasp…

And somewhere on the journey to another city, Magoria-wendia's party had been ambushed and wiped out – with the exception of that same child, Sarana, heir to her father's Mirager sword. She fell into the hands of General Gayed and Rathrox Ligatan, who knew exactly what they had, and were prepared to use her in ways Solad could never have envisioned. My mother, jumping out of the howdah, sword in hand, leaving me in the care of my Theura nurse, while she battled to save us – and died…

Sarana, the beloved daughter of an obsessed father, a man so crazed by the thought of what they would do to her if he didn't obey them, he was prepared to betray the rest of his family, his fellow Magor, his country: prepared to raise wards around the annual Shimmer Feast so no one sensed the trap closing in on them, prepared to lower those same wards at the crucial moment to turn the trap into an extermination.

Solad's supposed discovery and identification of his daughter's body, his return with her already shroud-

wrapped in his howdah, her burial griefs – all playacting to conceal the kidnapping, to hide the existence of a hostage he would do anything to save. The scale of his treachery was breathtaking. I even wondered if he'd killed another child in order to have a body to wrap.

Of course Solad knew what was going to happen at the Shimmer Feast: he had arranged it. And some shred of remaining good sense or conscience made him send away ten Magoroth children to build the core of a new leadership. Just ten of them, with a few teachers; not enough to be missed by the Tyranians. The calculated cruelty of his decisions – take Temellin, but leave his sister Shirin; abandon the babies to their fate. Did his conscience bother him, my father? Did he think I was worth all those slaughtered that day? A whole nation enslaved? Did he really think the vestiges of future hope he seeded by sending the Ten away was enough to atone for his crime?

My Mirager father had sold his honour for his daughter. Temellin's parents and his sister Shirin, and Goddess knows how many Magoroth had died – to keep me alive. Kardiastan was enslaved because of me. Temellin and the others of the Ten were brought up in exile because of me.

Because of me. Sarana. Solad's heir. The rightful Miragerin. Miragerin-sarana. Me.

It was the only explanation that made any sense.

My memories all fitted; I'd seen Wendia jumping out of a howdah into battle. If I'd been Shirin, I would never have been sitting in a tiny curtained room that swayed just before my mother was killed. I would never have seen her rip off her skirting to fight. Shirin's mother had been attending the Shimmer Feast and would have been shot down with the others, far from the nursery.

There was more evidence, too, once I started to think things over. The Mirage Makers had said, You are the Miragerin, not, You are the Miragerin-shirin. And now I had the book to tell me they would never have given Shirin the cabochon-making conjurations. Sarana was another matter. When Sarana had disappeared from Kardiastan, they must have thought her dead, so they bestowed the Mirager's sword on her heir: her cousin Temellin. Once they had seen Ligea Gayed, they had realised Sarana was far from dead and they had tried to make up for their past mistake.

I'd been so blind. I was the one with the memories of what had happened in the ambush; I should have known those memories didn't fit with what Zerise told me of Shirin. I should have realised much earlier about the significance of the Mirager's sword. Temellin and the Magor had been so upset by its loss, so relieved at its return. Why, even the ordinary Kardis had cheered to see it again. I had seen the reverent way the Magoroth had touched it back in Madrinya; I'd heard Temellin say to Korden, 'At least you can stop worrying about that baby of yours.' I'd been told the first thing Temellin did when he returned to the Mirage City with the sword was to bestow cabochons – which would not have been necessary if other Magor or other swords could have performed that task in the year the Mirager's sword had been missing – yet I'd still blithely gone on thinking there was nothing special about my knowledge, about my sword.

And then that casually uttered but infinitely tragic, 'Ah. You don't know it, beautiful one, but you've just saved my life.' Temellin had thought there wasn't going to be another Mirager's sword until he died, and without one there would never be a new generation of

Magor. So some time before he'd met me, he'd decided to die.

The cold-blooded courage of that decision pierced me. I remembered his reluctance to ask if I really did have his sword; he'd been so concerned about what my answer would be that he hadn't been able to frame the question.

I remembered the strange reaction of Korden when he'd seen with his own eyes Temellin's sword safely returned: the odd mixture of relief and guilt. Part of Korden desperately wanted to be Mirager, but not over Temellin's body. In his heart he believed he'd be a better Mirager, but he'd been terrified Temellin was going to suicide, and he had feared the guilt that would have consumed him as a consequence.

I understood Korden better now that I was burdened with the guilt of my own past.

I wondered at my own blindness… The compeer in me had been granted enough evidence to unravel the tale long ago, but this hadn't been a crime I could solve objectively, distancing myself from the players; this had been my life.

And most of all, it was hard to acknowledge that for much of that life I, independent, manipulative, power-hungry Ligea Gayed, had danced to another's direction. I'd been betrayed by the two men I called father. Mocked by the man I'd called my mentor. I'd been manipulated, a poor senseless marionette jerked on the end of strings held by my enemies.

One good thing came out of my new understanding of who I was. I knew now that my son had been fathered by my cousin, not by my brother.

When Reftim brought in my lunch later that day, I asked abruptly, 'Where were they all,going?'

'I don't know that I should answer that,' he said, his plump cheeks flushing to match the colour of his bobble nose.

'Then let me speak to someone who can. Who's in charge now the Mirager has gone?'

'The Miragerin-consort.'

'Oh. Well, I hardly want to see her. Who else of the Magoroth is still here?'

'Garis didn't leave. Nor did Gretha.'

Gretha was Korden's wife and a little calculation told me she was expecting another child any time. 'I'll see Garis,' I said.

'I'll tell him you want to,' Reftim replied, making it clear he doubted Garis would come.

He was wrong; Garis came barely half an hour later. He paused in the doorway and we stared at one another, both looking for the right words to say. He was doing his best to shield his emotions, but Garis tended to leak things at the best of times. I'd felt his curiosity even before the door opened.

'Well met, Garis. What have you done to yourself?' I asked, indicating the sling he wore around a heavily bandaged left arm.

'Broke a bone,' he said briefly. 'Came off my shleth yesterday like a damned fool.'

'And you so proud of your riding skills!'

He gave a reluctant grin, and for a moment he was his usual cheerful self. 'Don't rub it in – everyone else has. The Mirage chose to grow a tree right in front of my mount just when I was taking a drink from my waterskin; hardly my fault. Those wretched Mirage Makers! I could almost believe they wanted me to miss out on all the fun.' He gazed around with interest. 'I was told your room was prone to changes, but I didn't hear about the books.' He walked over to have a look;

it did not escape my notice that he'd made no attempt to touch my cabochon in greeting, and I doubted the snub had anything to do with his injury. He ran a finger along the spines of a row of volumes, reading the titles. 'They're all in Kardi! Did you know you're breaking Tyranian law? It's one of the new promulgations of the Exaltarchy: the Kardi language is now barbaric and unlawful. They have been destroying our written works for years, of course, but now they want to make it illegal even to speak our own language in any public venue.'

'I didn't know that,' I said, 'about not speaking Kardi, I mean. But there's a great deal I don't know, Garis. I haven't spoken to anyone except Illuser-reftim – and Caleh very briefly – for two months, and Reftim never says anything anyway. Why has everyone left?'

He looked up sharply, shedding his concern. 'Did Temellin never come?'

'Only once. Right at the beginning.'

'Ah. I did wonder. Cabochon, you must have been lonely. I would have come if you'd asked for me.'

'That might have been unwise on your part. I am hardly the city's most beloved guest at the moment. I did appreciate your sending the flowers, though; that was a kind thought.'

His emotions blanked over. 'Flowers? What flowers?'

I stared. 'You haven't been sending me flowers?' I indicated the vase on my desk. That day the petals of each flower reassembled themselves every few minutes, so that the flower arrangement was different every time I looked.

He shook his head. 'I'm sorry – I didn't think of it. I wish I had.'

'Reftim told me they came from you.'

'I didn't even know about them. I bet I know who did send them, though.'

'Do you think so?' I was doubtful, yet wanting to believe.

"Who else?'

I thought immediately of Pinar, some trick of hers, but had to dismiss that idea: the flowers were harmless and perfectly ordinary, insofar as the Mirage's flowers were ever ordinary. Who indeed. Yet he hadn't wanted me to know they came from him… I pushed the thought away before it could hurt me with the other memories it would bring. 'Garis, did you believe me when I said Brand had told the truth – that I had changed, and given my loyalties to Kardiastan?'

He looked away to take a book down from the shelf. 'Perhaps. I don't know. I can sense your truth, but Temellin says you can lie and make it seem like the truth.'

'No. I can't. I never lied. I just omitted to tell the whole story, and let people jump to the wrong conclusions. It was deliberate, of course, but it does make a difference. It means you can trust what I do say.'

'I've never been convinced you were wholly as Tyranian as Pinar or Korden said. Anyway,' he added, his expression suddenly mischievous and admiring, 'if you did come here with the idea of betraying us all, I can only salute you. It was a gloriously brave, wonderfully insane thing to do.'

I chuckled. 'It was rather involuntary, if you'll remember. Events sort of overtook me.'

He wasn't listening. He had just read the title of the book he was holding, and his attention was now back on the books on the same shelf. 'Mirageless soul! Shirin, do you know what these books are?'

'Old Magor texts.'

'But so many of these were destroyed in the palace fire following the invasion – they haven't been in existence for twenty-five years! I've heard about them, but I never dreamed I'd actually ever see any of them.'

'Ah. I suppose the Mirage must have remembered them.'

'Sweet cabochon – you've been reading these?'

'Certainly. I've had plenty of time to perfect my Kardi reading skills.'

He looked at me in consternation. 'Shirin, was that wise? Surely you must realise the more you know of Magor powers, the more reluctant Temellin will be to ever let you go.'

'He has already told me he will never release me, so what difference does it make?'

'If Pinar hears about this, she'll have a new argument for your death. She's already quite boring on the subject.'

I snorted. 'So much for cousinly love. She has, in fact, made two attempts on my life as well.'

His look was guarded, but his seeping emotions communicated his disbelief.

'You haven't answered my question: where has everyone gone?'

He considered. 'I don't suppose it matters if I tell you. Temellin is moving against Tyrans. We have had word fresh troops have been landing at one of the southern ports. Temel believes them to be reinforcements, not replacement troops. It seems Tyrans is going to try to wipe out all Kardi opposition; Temellin wants to ensure the reverse. This is to be a full-scale war, Shirin.'

I felt physically ill. 'Goddessdamn! Garis, those troops are not reinforcements; they are diversionary.

Did you hear about what I told Korden and Temellin concerning the Stalwarts?'

'Yes,' he said carefully. 'But – well, Shirin, we all found it very hard to believe. Once Temellin heard about these new landings, he decided your talk of the Alps crossing was an attempt to divert our attention away from the south.'

'Oh, Vortexdamn him! That idiot!' I sank down into the chair. 'Garis, things are even worse than I thought they would be – and I'm a fool too. I should have done more to convince Temellin. It's just that I didn't envisage this diversion. I didn't know of it.'

'It's not possible for the legions to cross the Alps.'

'Has anyone ever tried from here?'

'No. Why should they?'

'Then how do you know what it is like? The Stalwarts would have sent someone to reconnoitre before they made the decision to attack from there; they must know it is possible. And Temellin has left the Mirage defenceless. I'm surprised he even left you and Pinar behind,' I added disgustedly.

'Well, I broke my arm. But I'm going after them as soon as it's mended, which should only be a week or two.'

'Why did Pinar stay behind?'

'Urn, well…' He hesitated, flushing. 'She's pregnant. Not by very long, of course, but she's not that young, and she carries the next Mirager. Temellin wouldn't let her ride with them.'

Illogically, that hurt. I pushed the pain away; I didn't have time for it. And then the thought came, uninvited: another baby. Another woman who could die instead of me… I pushed that thought away too. I would think about it later. 'Garis, I want you to free me so I can deal with the Stalwarts.'

'Shirin – you know I can't do that.' There wasn't another chair, so he flung himself down on my pallet and began to pluck at the threads of my quilt.

'You must. First I'm going to tell you the whole truth about myself… about how and why I became a Compeer of the Brotherhood. Then I want you to go and get Aemid – how is she, by the way? Reftim said she was better.'

'She is. She says she feels ten years younger. Apparentiy her heart was weak and some of the Magor have been practising their healing skills on her. But still, she doesn't look happy. She doesn't say much to anyone, either.'

'And Brand?'

'He's fine. He was bored out of his mind at first, but then Temellin gave permission for him to go to the practice rooms for weapons training – under strict supervision and warding. I don't think Temellin intends for his imprisonment to be permanent. I go and see him in his room sometimes, and so do some of the others. He made a lot of friends while he was training with the troops, you know; he is well liked. Caleh asked to be allowed to sleep with him, so he has company on his pallet as well.'

I gave a wry smile. Trust Brand.

'Garis, I want you to take Aemid to Brand and question him about me, with Aemid there, so she can confirm what he says about my past. Ask him, too, about Pinar's first attempt on my life. Ask Reftim about the second; I think he may tell you. He feels guilty about it, I know. Once you have done all that, perhaps you may be more willing to believe me. But first let me tell you about myself, about how I ever got mixed up with the Brotherhood in the first place.'

s 'E im -m: ¦ '•¦ \

He glanced at me warily, as if wondering what trick I was up to now. ¦y.--:r. ¦'.¦-.

I licked dry lips. 'It's not an easy story to tell. It was

Brand who prodded me into seeing the truth. Even

then, I didn't want to believe what was so painful. I

was used, Garis. I've been used all my life, and by the

' men I most wanted to please.

'I don't really remember my early life in Kardiastan, but I do remember being terrified and among strangers and knowing my mother was dead. Then this man came and he treated me kindly. I thought he was very handsome. He said he would take me home and look after me, and he did. Eventually he took me back to his home in Tyr and gave me everything I wanted and taught me to call him Pater. I worshipped him. His wife ignored me, but I had Aemid to care for me, so I didn't mind.

'I grew up thinking I was lucky to have such a wonderful father. I didn't see all that much of him, but he was a busy and important man and everyone said he spent too much time with me anyway. All the while I thought it was because he loved me. Do you know how much children can deceive themselves, Garis? When they really want to believe something is true?'

It was a rhetorical question, so he didn't answer, but his interest was stirred and his gaze was fixed unwaveringly on my face.

I continued, 'But I was different from other children: I had a cabochon to tell me who was a liar and who wasn't. When I was very young I didn't understand what it was saying, but later I did – and you know what I did then? I deliberately shut it off whenever I was with my father. I blocked it out. I told myself that was the polite thing to do. I became so good at it that it became automatic: whenever Gayed

spoke to me, I had no feelings of truth or falsehood, no feelings of his mood or his emotions. Clever little Ligea, who needed to think herself loved… Goddess, what a baby I was!

'Brand saw through Gayed right away. He hinted at things back then, until I made it quite clear I wouldn't listen to such insinuations.

'When I was sixteen, all my friends were thinking of marriage, but Gayed was saying things like: "My little girl is not going to be like those silly friends of hers who think of nothing but pretty clothes and jewels and revels, is she? She's better than that. She's going to be like her father. She's going to serve the empire." And I swallowed it all. I thought it was marvellous he wanted me to take the place of the son he'd never had. I thought I was special.' I wondered if I were leaking anything of what I felt then. Bitterness, rage, hurt – it was all there, still passionately felt. Ashamed of my lack of restraint, I tried to hide it and continued on.

'Because I was female, I couldn't become a legionnaire or a statesman or a trailmaster or a trademaster, so that only left the semi-secret cabal of the Brotherhood. I was proud to join. Rathrox took me under his wing, almost unheard of for a novice, and taught me. Because I had special abilities, I proved to be good at my job.'

By this time, Garis was no longer lounging on my pallet. He was sitting up, chin propped on his good hand and arm, listening intensely. His tawny eyes sparkled; he always did like adventures. I went on: 'Brand tried to tell me what I ought to have known all along: they were laughing at me. Neither of us could have known the whole story, though. They intended to turn one of the Kardi highborn into a pawn of Tyrans, into a compeer whose duty it was to root out the

traitors to Tyrans. It was a deliberate joke on the part of the three of them: Gayed, Rathrox, and the Exaltarch, Bator Korbus. A private way they had of revenging themselves for the defeats they suffered while taking Kardiastan.

'Eventually I saw what Brand had been trying to show me for years. Eventually I added up all those times when I'd been given a clue, but had chosen to ignore it.

'Gayed is dead now, killed in a campaign. In a way, I had the last laugh on him without him ever knowing it. Ordinarily, his wife, Salacia would have inherited everything, but she died before he did, while he was on that last campaign. Under the laws of adoption, everything came to me. I'm sure it's not what he intended, but he hadn't made a will to say otherwise. He was the sort of man who believed in auguries, you see, and his augur had told him he would live to be an old man and would die on his pallet.

'Looking back, I think he hated me. I think he and Rathrox always planned for me to be sent to Kardiastan. They made sure I spoke Kardi, and spoke it well. It was some sort of terrible revenge their twisted minds devised; to use me against the land of my birth. They knew exactly who I was. They'd always known.'

Much of Rathrox's protestations of the Brotherhood's ignorance of things Kardi had been evasions. He'd always known I was Solad's daughter and, after Solad's death, the true ruler of Kardiastan. He'd known just who 'Mir Ager' was. No wonder Bator Korbus had laughed. This time the bitter rage I felt made Garis blink; I'd not bomered to conceal it. I did not, however, explain that I believed myself to be Solad and Wendia's daughter, not Ebelar and Niloufar's. I hadn't yet decided what to do with that knowledge.

Garis, frowning, went to stand by the window.

'I was very good at my job, Garis,' I said, speaking to his back. 'And they knew it. Rathrox, Korbus, they thought I had a good chance of bringing A Mir Ager, who was causing them all the trouble, to the stake for burning – whether he was the same one they'd caught in Sandmurram or not. I suspect once I was successful, once Temellin was dead, they had every intention of making it public just who had brought him in. One of the Kardi elite, a Magoria, would now be the rightful ruler of Kardiastan. Imagine the terrible blow that would have been to the Magor. Imagine the confusion of the ordinary Kardi. The knowledge would have shattered resistance.'

'They were going to make you the Mirager?'

T believe so.'

I felt his nausea, but he didn't say anything," and he still had his back to me.

I went on, 'I've had my eyes opened, finally. I can see their evil now. More than that, I can see the truth about Tyrans now that I've been able to compare it to something else. There are many wonderful things about Tyranian culture and civilisation, but they don't make up for the Exaltarchy's lack of humanity. Garis, there's no way I would ever serve Tyrans again. If I had the chance, I would see Rathrox and the Exaltarch dead by my hand.' It was only once I'd said the words that the truth of them gripped me, tearing my breath away until I had to drag in air. They were true. I wanted to kill the two men who had – with Gayed – made a mockery of my life, who had tried to pattern me to their damnable mould. The desire for revenge – no, not just for revenge: for justice – was a hard ball in my stomach.

I had finished, but Garis, still rigidly turned away and skeining out a whole tangle of emotions, didn't move or speak. I had no idea whether he believed me or not.

When Garis entered my room for the second time that day, after he had spoken to Brand and Aemid, it was almost dark outside. The flamingos and the pond had gone; all that remained were some forlorn-looking lily pads draped over the cobblestones.

'Well?' I asked.

'Well, I'm willing to concede Pinar misled us about the first murder attempt, and that she tried to poison you. As for the rest, I can see Brand believes in your innocence, but I've always known that anyway. He's told me often enough. And then, it's just as clear Aemid doesn't.'

'Aemid is shot through with guilt; she had the care of one of the Magor and instead of bringing me up with a knowledge of my country and my heritage, she told me nothing. She has to believe I am still Tyranian at heart. Otherwise she would not be able to live with what she has done to me.'

'Shirin – I want to believe in your change of heart. But I can't accept it merely because you and Brand say it happened. I'm sorry. What if you actually do have the ability to hide your lies?'

Exasperated, I asked, 'Tell me, Garis, after you ride off and leave me to the tender care of my dear cousin, do you really expect to see me alive again?'

He looked uncomfortable and painfully out of his depth. T know what she did was awful, but she's not usually like that. I can hardly believe it – Mirage damn it, I wish Temellin was here! I suppose I can lend you your sword for a while so you can ward Pinar out -'

'Pinar has fitted her cabochon to my sword hilt.'

Oh? His discomfort deepened. Well, he suggested at last, not sounding very hopeful, 'I can try a warding spell against her with my sword -'

'How long would that last once you left? Can't you free me instead?'

'No.'

I cursed silently. 'I hoped it wouldn't come to this, but if there's no other way -' I rose from my chair and went to take a book from the bookcase. 'Have you asked yourself why the Mirage Makers have given me so much help?'

'Well, yes. Temellin also wondered and he didn't know about the books. Shirin, we thought so many of these volumes were lost to us. Do you know what a treasure you have here? Any one of us would have sold our swords for them!'

'Perhaps the Mirage Makers would have produced them for you if they had known you wanted them. Garis, I don't think they understand us easily, at least not unless they use the medium of the song of the Shiver Barrens. There's something strange about that song… but that's another matter for another time. I have the feeling the Mirage Makers do their best to oblige; it's just that they're not human and don't know what humans want. They like quite different things from us, and the things that are of use to them, we don't know how to use. I had eight or so fish in water just hanging in the centre of the room; possibly they would have solved all my problems if I'd known what to do with them. I asked for books, but even then they didn't know which books I'd want, so they gave me everything they could, from a treatise on how to cure diarrhoea in shleths to navigational maps of the Kardi coast. As soon as they found something I could use, like the bathroom or the books, they left them. The

other things all disappeared in time, to be replaced by something else.

'As for why they take such special care with me, well, I think they know I am important to their own future. They do not approve of my imprisonment, Garis. They may have deliberately made your shleth throw you in the hope you'd be hurt enough to have to stay behind, just so I wouldn't be left alone here with the likes of Pinar and Reftim.'

He was horrified. 'They wouldn't have done that, would they? Shiverdamn, I wish Temelhn were here. Perhaps I should ride after him. I don't know what to do, Shirin. I can't take all you say on trust.'

'No. Never mind.' I held up the book I had taken from the shelf. 'This provides an answer to your problem of trust. Read the fourth chapter tonight, Garis, and come back tomorrow morning – and if you value my life at all, don't tell Pinar anything.'

When he returned in the morning, Garis looked unhappier than ever. In his good hand, he was holding the book out from him as if he would have liked to have thrown it away. He was also carrying my sword thrust through the loop of his sling. T can't,' he blurted out to me the moment I opened the door to him. 'You can't. What if-?'

I waved a hand in dismissal. 'Don't you trust the Magor who wrote the book?'

'How do we know this volume is actually what he wrote? There may be mistakes in the copying. Or the Mirage Makers may have changed it.'

'I've found no other mistakes in anything I've read or tried. Garis, this renewal of vows is for a Magor who is believed to have broken the Covenant. You all believe I have done just that. It is right, therefore, that

I should be tested in this way. If I am false, then it kills me. If I am true, I survive. I don't have a problem with that. Why should you? I do know the Stalwarts are coming, and soon – and that unless someone stops them, they will conquer the Mirage. Have you thought about what that means? All the Magoroth children, your future, are right here, in this city. Remembering the Shimmer Festival, what do you think the legionnaires' orders will be concerning children? And the Kardis who have escaped slavery will be faced with a Tyranian army. Who is there to protect them? Who did Temellin leave behind, anyway?'

Garis licked his lips uncertainly. 'Pinar, Gretha, me. A few of the older Theuros and Illusos, people like Illuser-reftim. That's all. Even Zerise went with them.'

'That's all? Dear Goddess! Garis, thinkl How do you imagine I feel being trapped in this room? I will do anything, anything, to be free, even risk death.'

'Shirin, if you are doing this because you think I will relent rather than let you undergo this trial by sword, you are mistaken. I will not stay your hand at the last minute.'

'Have faith, Garis. Haven't you always been told it is impossible for a Magor to be harmed by their own sword?'

'Yes, but no one has actually proved it impossible by driving the blade into their own heart,' he said miserably. 'At least, not as far as I know. There is a ritual that involves driving your blade into the palm of your hand, but the heart7. We also know that if someone else turns your sword against you, they die. Horribly. Your sword kills them… There could be a paradox here.'

'That's irrelevant,' I said. 'We are not talking about someone else doing diis to me. I'm going to do it to myself.' ¦

He still looked unhappy as he added, 'The sword may divert, just the way it did when Temellin flung his at you.'

He was so agitated he didn't even notice I had stripped to the waist. I said, 'I'm not going to give it that chance. My sword, Garis.'

'I – I should tell you, I fitted my cabochon to the hilt.'

I chuckled. 'Wise lad. But I wasn't thinking of turning it against you.'

'I can't risk anything,' he said wretchedly. 'I'm sorry.'

'It's perfectly all right.' I took up the sword and fitted it to my hand. It sprang into light joyously, as if recognising its owner; I welcomed the feel of it. Just to hold it made me feel younger, stronger, more powerful.

I thought it was just as well Magor swords were short, otherwise what was required of me would have been physically impossible. I placed the tip of the blade on my chest and prepared to drive it into my heart, wondering – with surprising calm – if my blood would fill up the hollow of the blade through the open tip.

'No!' The word exploded out of him, making me pause. 'It's all right, Shirin. I'll believe you -r-'

I shook my. head with a smile. 'No, you won't. Not really. It has to be done this way, Garis.' I eased the sword towards me, feeling it slip upwards between my ribs. I had studied the diagram in the book carefully, and took care to avoid the sternum and the lung. Still the sword resisted me, protesting the path I sent it on. Blood trickled down the blade. I applied more pressure and knew it had entered my heart. In confirmation, the sword flamed blue, crackling and sparking. Pain flared, impossibly intense, and I had to divert some cabochon power to reduce it to a

manageable level. Even so, moans escaped my throat, beyond my control. My vision changed; everything became tinged with red, without other colour.

Garis held the book up, so I could read the required words. I saw he was crying, tortured by his inability to do more to help me, worried we were doing the wrong thing.

I repeated the vow of the Covenant aloud, and followed it with the caveat that would kill me if I lied: 'In the name of my Magoroth sword and in the name of ¦ the Magoroth blood that runs in my veins, in the name of the heart's blood that I spill, may I die here and now if my intentions are not to fulfil my vow, or may I die in the future at the moment I am foresworn'. I looked up at Garis through a red haze.

'That's enough, Shirin! Please, withdraw your sword.'

I pulled the hilt back. A little blood followed the withdrawal of the blade, which had filled with gold light. The blue light faded and then the gold as I laid the weapon down. I was still standing, but weakness dragged at me. Garis pushed me into a chair and took up the washbowl and towel I had ready. Gently he washed the blood away, his hands trembling as he did so. 'Are you all right?' he asked in an agony of apprehension.

'I think so.' I felt weak. My vision was still distorted and pain still rippled through my chest, but I thought it was the pain of healing, not of death.

T would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you.'

'Yes, you would have,' I said, with an attempt at a smile. 'If I'd died it would have been because I intended to betray Kardiastan, and you would have felt satisfaction.'

'I don't think so.' He was staring at my skin where the blade had entered; not only was there no more blood, but there was no recent cut, either. The only mark, where earlier there had been nothing, was a white sword-shaped scar, perfect in detail. I stared at it, fascinated. Garis touched it gently with his fingers in awed reverence. 'I have heard of this,' he whispered.

'What is it?'

'I always thought it a legend, a story. It is said that anyone who bears the shape of a Magor sword on their body is especially holy.'

'Holy? Garis, you have to be joking! If there is one thing I am not, it's holy! Goddess knows -'

'Oh, not holy in the religious sense. Holy to us, to the Magor, in that such a person is special, of importance in our history, to our land.'

My hand went involuntarily to my womb and I felt the blood drain from my face. 'Don't say any more. I don't want to hear it.'

He suddenly realised where he had placed his fingers, and drew back, blushing furiously. I pulled on my blouse and, still weak, went to lie on my pallet. 'Will you let me out of here, Garis?'

'Yes. Yes, of course. I can bring down the wards. Now, if you like. But what ought we to do, Shirin? Shall I have someone ride after Temellin? Ought I go myself? He may not believe anyone else. I'm not even sure he'll believe me.'

'No. Let him go on. Let him face the legions in Kardiastan. Someone must. I shall deal with the Stalwarts myself.'

He looked at me in confusion. 'But we need more people – you yourself said that! They are the Stalwarts. Even I've heard of them.'

'I think I can do it, if I plan carefully. I am stronger in Magor power now. I shall have their trust, remember. And they don't know what they face.'

'But won't it be – well, especially difficult for you? Because of this Favonius?'

'That is why I must do it. I would like to save him. I know I must try. But what of Pinar? She will never let you release me.'

'Mirage damn it! I had forgotten her. Shirin, what we did was foolish; we should have had witnesses. Others who could testify to your truth -'

'Too late now. I don't think I could go through that again. Anyway, Pinar wouldn't believe anything good about me no matter what she saw or heard. Listen, Garis, break the wards tonight, immediately after Reftim has taken away the dinner dishes. Arrange shleths and food – all that I'll need. By the time anyone knows I am gone, I will be well away. There's no need for you to be implicated. Let them wonder how I did it.'

'But you can't go alone!'

'Well, I was wondering if you'd also release Brand.'

'Oh. Um, good idea. But I shall come with you as well.'

'Still don't trust me, Garis?'

'It's not that. It's just that I want to be in on this too.'

'And what about your arm?'

'Damn the arm. I can still use my cabochon. Can't I come?'

'Temellin wouldn't let you ride out disabled, and therefore I won't, either. Sorry'

'You may need help -'

'Trust me. Garis, I have worked for two whole months with these texts here. And I have come to believe that my powers are special, just as Temellin's are. True, I haven't really Jiad enough,time, but I will

manage. And now, can you fetch Brand to me without anyone knowing?'

Only when I saw Brand again did I realise how much I had missed him. He knelt by my pallet where I lay, and took hold of my hand, squeezing it so tight I almost cried out – but there was no denying the surge of gladness I felt.

'I've missed you,' he said.

'And I you. Has Garis told you he's setting us free?'

'Yes. I might have known you'd find a way to do it. In fact, I'm surprised it took you so confoundedly long.' I pulled a face and hit him. He laughed. 'What now?' he asked.

'I'm going back to Tyrans, but first I have something to do.'

I explained about the Stalwarts, concluding with the words, 'So, I want to stop their invasion, without – I hope – killing Favonius.'

'Just like that?'

'Just like that. Believe me, Brand, I have the power now.'

'And you want me to go with you?'

'I'd like you to. But you are a free man, remember.'

'You want me to help you save your Tyranian lover and then have me watch while you go back to his arms and I lose you all over again?'

'I was never yours to lose, Brand,' I said tartly. 'And no, I'll never go back to Favonius. I can't. If I belong to anybody at all, it is Temellin. But perhaps I'm not cut out for – for a partnership with anyone. I like my independence too much.'

'You're mad. A week or so in a man's arms and you'd condemn yourself to a lifetime of celibacy when he

turns out to be your brother and marries someone

mam

else? That's crazy! Just because I love you, but can't have you, doesn't mean I deny myself the pleasures of a friendship and, er, other things, with another woman.'

'So I've noticed. But you haven't given me your answer: will you come to the Alps with me?'

He threw up his hands in capitulation. 'Ocrastes help me, yes, I'll come. But one of these days I'll either have you in my arms – or I'll break free of your spell and leave you.'

We both wrote letters before we left; Brand's was for Caleh, mine for Temellin. It was the hardest thing I'd ever had to write; it didn't say one-quarter of what I wanted to tell him, and it certainly didat come close to telling him all the truth.

Temellin, I began, by the time you read this, I shall be gone – out of your life, and out of Kardiastan – probably forever. I'm sorry I have brought you grief. Ironic, isn't it? It was originally my intention to bring about your death; now I worry because I have caused you pain… but perhaps you won't believe that.

I go to stop the Stalwarts – yes, they do come, whether you believe in them or not. I hope it won't come to a fight, but if it does, I have every intention of winning and none of dying. You see, I am carrying your child. Your son.

Nonetheless, it is not my intention to stay in Kardiastan. I will go on to Tyrans where I will bear the child and there I shall stay. I will send the boy to you so he can receive his cabochon. And I shall keep all your Magor secrets, never fear.

I suppose there is a chance I shall not live long enough to bear this child. The Mirage Makers showed me what it is they want from the Magoroth. I believe you know to what I refer. I will fight such a fate for myself and our child, but should I lose, then so be it. ^

/ don't regret a thing. At first I told myself all I felt was lust, soon quenched, but we know differently, don't we? Even when you meant to kill me, we both knew how much we loved.

Full life, Tern.

Your Shirin

Just before we left, I gave the letter to Garis, who looked at me uncertainly and said, 'I wish I could be sure you're doing the right thing.' He gave a wry smile. 'Impossible, I know. But how will you know what part of the Alps the Stalwarts will cross? You may miss them.'

'I won't miss them. The Mirage Makers will see to that,' I said with certainty. I swung myself up onto one of the shleths he had procured for us. 'Full life, Garis.'

He nodded unhappily and stood watching while Brand and I rode out of the Mirage City.

This time there was no cheering.

¦¦; ark