| |
––––––––
In Ussene, the days passed in a deep gloom broken only by the flickering of the candles along the rough stone walls. Reiffen followed Molio on his rounds through the grubby passages, but when he wasn’t with Molio he found himself drawn more and more to the Library, no matter how hard he tried to resist.
Usually the little man came to wake him when it was time to set off on the day’s routine, tapping lightly at his door. “Sir,” Molio would whisper in a voice almost too timid to hear. “Would you like to go with Molio today?” His small eyes glittered happily as Reiffen sprang up and rubbed the sleep from his own, both of them glad Reiffen could avoid the temptation of the books for another day.
But often Molio was called away for extra duties and Reiffen was left to himself in his dark room. Even then he generally went first to the Front Window, where the sight of the mountain shadows gliding gradually in brown shrouds across one another, or a chill rain driving through the steep valley beyond, might be enough to keep him from going to the other place. But more and more often it was not.
There was something comforting to Reiffen about the Library. It wasn’t like the rest of Ussene. The light was brighter there than it was anywhere else; sometimes the room even seemed cheery despite the spider and the pulsing stone. In the Manor he had spent many happy hours alone in the book-shelved dens; this library was very much the same. The smell of the leather bindings. The volumes beckoning in long and secret rows. The rest of the fortress was all boredom or torment, but in the Library at least he might remember what his life had been.
He tried to stay away. He knew the place was evil. These were not the books he read in Valing. These were the work of Wizards. So he followed Molio as often as he could and sometimes even searched for the little man, roaming the halls cautiously alone.
For his part, Molio was happy to have a friend. In his worshipful way he never failed to tell Reiffen that he was the first and best friend Molio had ever had. “Kicks and beatings,” he said as he rubbed the memories that lay beneath his wax-covered coat. “All Molio has ever had is kicks and beatings. Friends are better.”
One day they found themselves near the long tunnel that ran from the Front Gate back into the depths of the mountain. Molio’s usual route was through the back stairs and side passages of the fortress, where they rarely saw anyone else; but once in a while they came out into the busier tunnels. This time they found themselves nearly running into a company of sissit leading a line of prisoners into the heart of the hill. It was the first time Reiffen had ever gotten a good look at sissit other than as pictures in a book, and they were far more horrible in person than on the page. Nothing was right about them, though they might have passed for human at a distance. They were short and thick, with arms and legs not long enough for their bodies. Their skin was terribly pale, as pale as the white of an eye. A few thin wisps of hair wagged at the tops of their heads, as colorless as their skin. Their clothing was ragged, mostly filthy pelts and hides. But they were strong, and pushed even the largest of their prisoners easily along, their flat feet slapping loudly against the stone floor with every step.
Molio tugged at Reiffen’s sleeve. “Please, sir,” he whispered. “Not good for sissiti to see us. They are always hungry.”
But, as Reiffen allowed the little man to draw him backwards, one of the captives started toward him. The prisoners were all joined together by a long rope that bound their hands, and this particular prisoner could not go far before he was pulled to a stop by his restraints. All the same, he stretched forward as far as possible and peered at Reiffen through the wild tangle of his hair.
“Reiffen?” he croaked. His lips were cracked and dry. “Is that you?”
For a moment Reiffen thought it was Avender who was standing before him. Then, through the layers of dirt that covered the other, he realized the boy was too old. It wasn’t Avender. Avender was dead.
Molio tugged again at his sleeve and whimpered, “Please, sir. It’s not good to be watching new ones arrive. Sissiti get angry.”
Even as Molio spoke the nearest sissit gave a sharp pull on the rope that sent the prisoner stumbling on after the others. “Don’t you recognize me?” he called unhappily as he was pulled away. “It’s Rib. Rib Clammer. Don’t you remember?” A puzzled look came into his face as he saw that Reiffen’s hands weren’t bound. “Aren’t you a prisoner?” he asked. “Aren’t they taking you down into the pits with the rest—”
Before Reiffen could answer, the sissit guard hit Rib heavily across the back with his spear. The boy fell forward against the prisoner in front of him and gasped for breath as the guards dragged them away. But Reiffen remembered him now. He was a farmer’s son from Eastbay, and had left Valing the summer before, apprenticed to a Wayland merchant.
The slap of the sissits’ feet echoed down the tunnel; the prisoners disappeared into the gloom. A large rat took advantage of the stillness to scurry across the path in hope of finding something left behind. Reiffen stared after them long after Rib and the others had disappeared.
“Friend?” asked Molio in his small, soft voice. He peeked out from behind Reiffen and peered down the tunnel as well.
Reiffen nodded. “From home,” he said, feeling strangely tired. “I thought he was somebody else for a moment.”
“Molio is friend,” whispered the little man kindly.
“Yes, you are,” said Reiffen. He might have patted him on the shoulder, only Molio was not much cleaner than the sissit. “My last friend in the whole world.”
“You miss friend? You miss home?”
“I do. I miss them both.” But Reiffen was thinking of Avender, not Rib Clammer, and of the way the surface of the lake sometimes reflected the white peaks of Valing in the evening, when the winds died down and everything was still.
Shouldering the little man’s bag, which he sometimes carried for him, Reiffen followed him back up to the empty tunnels above. But he was troubled by the look he had seen on Rib’s face as the older boy was dragged away. Plainly Rib had thought Reiffen might not be a captive at all. It was natural enough. There was Reiffen, unbound and apparently wandering freely through the fortress. What other conclusion might have come to another prisoner? Reiffen didn’t at all like the idea that anyone might think he was in Ussene of his own accord. He had been captured and brought here just like anyone else. It wasn’t his fault they wanted him to be something more than an ordinary slave. He would escape if he could. But there was no way past the guards at the Front Gate, and no way to climb down from the Front Window.
He tried not to think about the Library.
Two days passed before Reiffen made up his mind to go look for Rib in the dungeons. He spent all his time with Molio, who would have been delighted with his company had Reiffen not been brooding about what Rib thought all the while. They spent most of the second evening at the Front Window watching the colors of the sunset bathe the valley beyond. Molio had never known to watch a sunset before and was enchanted by the sight. Even after the last shadows of red and orange had faded from the cliffs he stood leaning with his hands and chin against the sill, watching the sky be slowly salted by the stars.
Reiffen sat by himself against the far wall in the growing darkness. He had kept away from the Library since seeing Rib, but that hadn’t made him feel any better. He knew he had to do something more, to prove to himself that he really was doing everything he could to upset the Wizards’ plans. And it was important the other boy understand that Reiffen, too, was the Wizards’ prisoner. Maybe he might find a way to bring Rib back Upstairs with him. Molio was nice enough, but he wasn’t someone who would ever help Reiffen come up with a way to escape.
His thoughts were interrupted by the little man, who had finally left the sill and come back through the darkness to sit beside his friend. “Sunset is beautiful,” he said. “Stars, too. Thank you, friend.”
“Hmm?” Reiffen wasn’t thinking about the stars. “You know, Molio,” he said after a moment. “I think I’ll go Downstairs tomorrow and look for Rib.”
He felt Molio stiffen beside him.
“D-downstairs?” the little man whispered. He tucked what little chin he had between his knobby knees. “N-no one goes there. Y-you can’t help friend there.”
“Maybe I can. I can’t know till I try.”
“Molio doesn’t want to lose kind friend,” he whimpered. “Not now.” He brushed a tear from his eye and left a waxy streak across his face. “Molio has never had friends before.”
“No one’s going to hurt me, Molio. Usseis made that quite clear. Besides, you told me yourself you used to live Downstairs. But here you are, alive and breathing all the same.”
The little man shivered and went quiet at the mention of his own time Downstairs. Reiffen could see Molio was thinking hard of what he might say to convince his friend not to go. “Bad things happen,” the little man said finally. His voice remained fearful in the thick night that had fallen through the Window. “Many bad things downstairs. Only lucky ones ever come up. Even soldiers.”
“I’ve made up my mind. Fine friend I am if I don’t even try to do something for Rib.” Though Reiffen knew as he spoke he wasn’t going for Rib’s sake, but for his own.
Not wanting to give Molio any further chance of talking him out of his purpose, he stood up and turned down the tunnel away from the Window. The lights in the passage glowed dimly before him, disappearing into the depths of the Wizards’ fortress. Molio followed miserably behind.
The next day Reiffen waited long enough to get the new password, then set off for the lower levels. His friend made no attempt to stop him, or go with him.
Soon Reiffen came to the main tunnel. The road was empty now, and there was no one to challenge the boy as he turned to the left and marched deeper into the heart of the dark stone. It was a large passage, large enough for ten men to walk abreast, and tall enough to allow the Wizards easy passage. Here and there other tunnels branched off on either side. None of the side ways were lit and from them all Reiffen sensed a guarded deadness, as if each path led straight to the bottom of a graveyard. Garbage lay piled along the walls, broken weapons and other things Reiffen didn’t want to think about. Large insects skittered through the shadows. Everywhere the rough stone was dark and dirty. The weight of the fortress above seemed to press down upon him, choking the air. Heavy torches burned along the walls, and the whole passage reeked of smoke. Reiffen walked quietly and listened carefully for any sign he wasn’t alone. But even the rats were careful to keep out of his way. For all they knew he was just another hungry sissit.
He walked for quite some time before he noticed a light in the passage ahead that seemed stronger than one of the usual torches. Soon he was close enough to see it came from a fire burning in a raised brazier. A group of sissit were standing around the fire roasting potatoes and other, less wholesome things, on the ends of their daggers. The sissits’ pallid skins glowed red in the light of the fire. The main passage ended here, but on the other side Reiffen saw a second, smaller tunnel that angled downwards into the stone beyond like a black chute.
Reiffen steeled himself and stepped out of the shadows into the room. The sissit turned his way at once, their shabby arms clanking as they moved.
“Yah, that won’t help you here,” said the sergeant after the boy had spoken the password. He jerked his knife back the way Reiffen had come. The legs on whatever it was the sergeant was eating wiggled as he waved the skewer about.
Reiffen swallowed uncomfortably. Usseis’s assurances seemed less absolute here in the deeper parts of his demesne. “Usseis said I could go where I—,” the boy began, but he was cut off by a sharp blow from the back of the sissit’s hand. His teeth caught the inside of his cheek and his mouth turned salty with blood.
“Don’t go usin’ the Boss’s name down here,” hissed the sergeant. “You ain’t got no password! You ain’t goin’ nowhere!”
“Maybe we give ‘im a little tour, anyway, eh Blinks?” suggested one of his mates with a snicker. “We’re gonna get ‘im down here, soon or late. Might be fun to tinder ‘im up.”
“Yah?” The sergeant scowled darkly at his fellow. His pale skin looked soft beneath the dark leather of his jacket and breeches. Had he owned a tuft of hair anywhere upon his head or face he might have almost looked human. “And who’s gonna tell th’ boss we didn’ foller orders? You, maybe?” He bit off one of the legs wriggling on his knife; dark juice dripped down his chin.
Reiffen backed up a step. Explaining his situation to Rib seemed much less important now than it had been the night before. The Front Window, or even the seclusion of his own small cell, were suddenly much more attractive. What was done was done. Rib and he would both have to follow the paths set out for them. Antagonizing the sissit was not going to help either of them. He took a second step backward.
“Look at ‘im,” said a toothless one, coming forward. His voice sounded like boots being pulled from thick mud. “Scared a’ready, he is. Hope I’m the one ‘ut gets to hold ‘im down when he do finally come down the Holes.”
He waggled his dirty knife in Reiffen’s face and grinned. The rest of the troop laughed horribly, their dark humor echoing across the walls. They kept laughing as Reiffen turned and hurried back the way he had come. It was a long time before he no longer thought he heard the echo of their guffaws. Evil flourished in all the parts and passages of Ussene, but there was no question it grew stronger the deeper one went into the darkness.
His heart pounded in his chest. He thought the sissit were following him, until he realized the footsteps he heard were only his blood thumping in his ears. His chest heaved; he put out a hand to steady himself against the wall. He felt better after a moment and was ashamed to have been so thoroughly scared by a few sissit soldiers. The heir to the thrones of both Banking and Wayland might have shown a bit more courage in the face of a few fat sissit. But he was only a boy, and Giserre’s pride commanded little respect in the dark pits of Ussene. He was glad that Molio had not been with him; he would not have liked Molio to see him so frightened. The little man’s high regard allowed the only shred of self-respect Reiffen still possessed.
He turned off the main way into the passage that would take him Upstairs, but after that he paid no more attention to where he was going. He walked on listlessly past the guttering candles and moldy walls. The dark tunnels around him all looked the same. He was not at all surprised when he found his unguided footsteps had taken him to the Library. On his last visit he had come across a book, Magic’s Aspects, and his curiosity had finally overcome him. He had read the first few pages, but had slammed the cover swiftly shut once he realized what it was he had found, a book that explained the nature of magic and how to do the most basic spells. To be so close to the power of the Wizards had frightened him. But now, with other, simpler terrors behind him, the Library welled up before him as a refuge.
It was always peaceful among the books. Reiffen had never seen anyone else in the Library, and this time was no different. Even though he was afraid of it, he had come to think of the room as his special sanctuary.
He found the book where he had left it. Its cover fit perfectly in his hands as he picked it up from the table closest to the door. It was a medium-sized volume, with a soft leather binding. Just the right weight. Just the right shape. There were no chairs anywhere, but the table was at the perfect height for him to stand while reading. His elbows rested on the dark wood on either side of the opened pages.
“Magic,” he read, “is the art of using the world. All the world’s creatures contain this art within them, in one fashion or another, either through talents of their own, or through long study of the nature of the world itself. Examples of the first sort of magic can be seen in the ability of the Oeinnen, or Shapers, to transform themselves into almost any sort of creature; or in the power the Bryddin wield over all things of stone and earth. But all creatures have the ability to work magic, to some degree, because all share the same common connection to the world around them. Only the Bryddin, born of Brydds in the void beneath, are not affected by the magic of Areft’s world. They are, by their nature, of different stuff.”
As he read, Reiffen forgot everything that had happened to him in the tunnels below. He forgot the time. He forgot where he was. The world he was exploring was far more interesting than the one in which he lived. There was much in the book that he had already learned from school, or from Redburr and Nolo. But never before had it all been connected. Never before had all the various bits of knowledge in the world fit together so exactly. Everything was part of the whole and, as such, everything was related. It was just a matter of assembling the power and knowledge necessary to follow the paths between the things of the world to perform magic. The book made it all seem so simple.
He had read past the first chapter and was well into the second when the feeling came over him that he was no longer alone. Drat that Molio. Here he was looking for Reiffen once again at exactly the time when Reiffen wanted to be left alone. He had just come to a passage describing the basic differences between fire and water and bird and bee, and was beginning to wonder if there were any spells or potions that might be simple enough for him to learn right away, when he had to turn and see what Molio wanted.
He stopped short. Fornoch, in his gray robes, stood beside the spider web, one finger thrumming lightly on a corner string. His eyes were on the spider, not Reiffen; but that didn’t make Reiffen feel better at all. How long had the Wizard been there? Why had he not spoken? Reiffen swallowed hard, trying to hold back the fear welling up within him, and closed his book. He was really in for it now. The spider clung tightly to its line as the net trembled beneath the Wizard’s touch. Then Fornoch looked up and, noting that the boy had noticed him, left off bothering the spider. He smiled.
This time his smile was not like his brothers’. It was almost human. It didn’t send shivers up Reiffen’s spine, or make him want to look and see what was about to strike him from behind. It was a warm smile, almost like Giserre’s when he returned to the Tear after a long day of sledding or hiking through the mountain meadows. Despite himself, he almost calmed. Maybe he hadn’t reached the end.
“I was waiting for you to notice I had joined you.” Fornoch came forward, his finger stroking the head of the spider gently as he passed. Reiffen realized the Wizard hadn’t been toying with the spider. He had been playing with it, the way one might play with a favorite kitten.
The Wizard looked over the boy’s shoulder at the book lying upon the table. Reiffen stepped out of his way. But the Wizard took no offense.
“I thought you might appreciate that,” he said. “I put it in a place where I thought you might find it. I had to be careful about making it too obvious, though. I knew you would not want to pick up the books that were lying about. At least not at first.”
Reiffen was confused. “Y-you mean it’s okay for me to be here?”
“Of course.” The Wizard crossed his arms within the drooping sleeves of his cloak and smiled once again. “Why do you think the Library is here? Do you think I need it?”
Reiffen looked around the room with a fresh understanding. It seemed impossible that all this might have been created for his benefit.
“Usseis and I hardly require something like this,” Fornoch continued. “Magic is as natural to us as opening a door is to you. Ossdonc might occasionally need some sort of reminder, but only when he is in a hurry. No, Reiffen. This is your room.”
“But Molio said...”
“Molio knows only what he has been told. Or thinks he has been told.”
“But why would you make this room for me?” Reiffen looked for a moment at the wonders assembled on the shelves around him. He hated the Wizards and everything they stood for, but all the same he couldn’t help but think how wonderful it would be to read every book in that room, and learn the purpose of every object.
“You know the answer to that question.” There was almost a tone of disappointment in the Wizard’s voice, as if he was proud of what Reiffen could learn when he used his brain hard enough.
“You’re still just trying to make me join you,” Reiffen decided at once. “You’re showing me what might be mine if I decide to do what you want.”
He wasn’t sure, but Reiffen thought Fornoch’s eyes twinkled, as if he had given the Wizard the answer he wanted. Fornoch pursed his lips and spoke again. “I would not quite describe my purpose in just that way,” he said. “I would prefer to say that I merely offer you an example of what you stand to gain, should you decide to see things our way. It is not as if your other choices are as generous.”
“Then is what this book says true?” Reiffen looked down at the book upon the table. “Can anyone do magic?”
“Yes.”
A thrill of excitement raced through him. Some day he might hold in his hands the same power that had murdered his father.
“But that power can only be yours if I choose to teach it to you,” continued Fornoch, as if reading Reiffen’s mind. “There is no other way to learn.”
“And if you do teach me,” asked Reiffen with sudden daring, “what’s to stop me from using that power on you?”
Fornoch smiled again, finding the boy’s ambition amusing. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Once the power is gained, there is no other control upon it. You will always be your own master, if you come to us freely. But, if you force us to bring you to our will, then your life will cease to be yours. Once extracted, a will can never be returned.”
“I’ll never follow you freely!” said Reiffen with sudden passion. “Not if you offer me everything in the world!”
“But that’s precisely what I am offering.”
The Wizard crossed the room to the place where the green stone lay beneath its bowl of glass. The Library, which had seemed very large without him, looked much smaller now that Fornoch was in it. He lifted the bowl with one hand and picked up the stone with the other. It remained lifeless and dark, a small pebble cradled in fingers. But when he returned to stand before the boy the rock began once more to pulse and glow.
“Do you know what this is, Reiffen?” asked Fornoch softly. He held the stone up before the boy, who felt the heart of the rock beating in time with his own. He was unable to speak, his eyes fixed on the pulsing stone, so he shook his head instead.
“It’s a simple thing, really.” The Wizard turned the rock between his fingers, displaying all its sides. “The bearer of this stone will live forever. I fashioned it for you.”
Reiffen wondered if Fornoch could read minds. First the Library, where even a human boy could learn magic. And now this, a talisman that would allow the bearer to live as long as Nolo or Redburr. Think of what he could do then!
“Of course, if I were to take it away from you, then it would stop working.” Fornoch withdrew his hand and the stone with it. Immediately the stone went dark again, its heart shrouded in hardness. “That’s why you can’t just carry it around with you. You have to keep it inside you, where it will always be with you. Guarding you from within.”
Reiffen followed the green rock with his eyes. Slowly the Wizard brought it closer. The boy reached out and, as his fingers drew near the stone, he felt it even before he touched it. It was not that the stone was hot. It was more like the way that a thick wool jersey, when rubbed quickly, would sometimes spark his finger when he brought it close. The stone, however, didn’t shock him. It was cold to the touch, colder than the air in the room around him.
He pulled his hand away. “No,” he said firmly. “You’re not going to get me that way, either. Kill me if you want, but I won’t help you at all.”
“As you wish.”
Fornoch wrapped his hand around the stone and withdrew his offering. He didn’t appear upset, or disappointed. “You will not be killed, of course,” he said. “But we will use you. There is a certain amount of pain involved in Usseis’ procedures. The end result, however, will be the same. Not from your point of view, perhaps. But that is your choice.”
Reiffen stood stiffly by the table. Now that he had rejected Fornoch’s offer he expected his freedom to be at an end. But Fornoch had other thoughts. He ignored the boy and returned to the bookshelf to replace the stone beneath its case. The bowl slipped back over the dark green gem and the tension in the room lessened at once.
“I’ll leave you to think about what you can, and cannot do,” said Fornoch. “The choices are yours.”
He drew his cloak about him and disappeared. Reiffen blinked, but his eyes were not deceiving him. Fornoch had vanished. And there had been none of the thunder and noise of the journey from the henge with Ossdonc. Fornoch’s cloak had twirled around him and twisted into a thin line that had suddenly no longer been there. Reiffen was left alone in the room, the books still available to him, the spider and the stone still at hand.
After that Reiffen wasn’t the same. His talk with Fornoch left him uneasy and unsatisfied. He knew he had done the right thing and that no good could come from accepting anything offered by any of the Wizards. All the same, he couldn’t help but feel he had missed something. That an opportunity had slipped through his fingers. Now his thoughts were always on the Library. Everything he did reminded him of what the Wizard had offered. When he was at the Front Window, craning his neck for a glimpse of the sun between the narrow gaps in the cliffs and ridges overhead, he thought about the books. When he was in bed, waiting for the hour or two of sleep that was all he had any more, he thought about the Wizard disappearing from the room with a single sweep of his cloak. And when he went out with Molio on his rounds, he saw the green stone in every lamp and candle touched by the little man, their dim yellow flames twisting up into the dark green glow of the stone.
Even Molio was aware that something had changed. He had always been very respectful of Reiffen, but now he seldom spoke unless Reiffen addressed him first. As a result, much of their time together was passed in silence, Reiffen alone with his thoughts, and Molio not wanting to disturb his only friend. The little man began to look troubled when he was with the boy; the eager smiles that had always filled his face became fewer and fewer.
Reiffen barely noticed. He was too busy trying to keep himself from returning to the Library. He was afraid that, if he did, he might finally succumb to Fornoch’s gifts. And who knew what would happen then? What if the green stone was a trick, an easy way for Usseis to take control of him? All he knew about the world, young as he was, told him the Wizards were not to be trusted. And yet, he was sure that Fornoch had not been lying. It was as if he had understood that Fornoch did not need to lie.
He tried to remember all he had been taught about the time when Fornoch and Ossdonc had assumed human form and lived among men and women. His father had met them both then, many times. Ossdonc had even married his mother’s aunt, the Queen Loellin, and had ruled for years over Banking as her consort. Fornoch had cast himself in the part of Martis, the King of Wayland’s most trusted counselor. Together they had kept the two kingdoms at war with each other for years. By the time the Dwarves had arrived on the scene, Banking and Wayland had been on the verge of collapse, and all because of the policies the two Wizards had whispered into the ears of queen and king. Ossdonc had been simple in his counsel. Banking was the greater land, and deserved to rule all the world. Wayland was in the way. And Queen Loellin, ever vain and subject to the flattery of those around her, had followed easily along the path her magicked husband had laid out for her. But Fornoch had ever been more subtle, persuading King Brioss that he was in the right to defend his homeland against the wicked predations of his neighbors. Always had he led Wayland down a path of apparent righteousness to a place of death.
And whenever Reiffen worked it all through in his head he knew he was right. The thought of his mother and father, and what the Three had done to them, comforted him. Thinking about them helped him shrug off Fornoch’s tempting, and kept him from the Library. Because he was sure that the more he visited that place, the more easily he would be turned to Fornoch’s purpose. He told himself that Fornoch had been mistaken to tempt him, because now he had found the strength to resist.
Then one day, as he had dreaded, the officer he had met with Molio came to summon him to another audience with Usseis. Reiffen was watching the sky from the Front Window, reminding himself there was more to the world than dusty passages and sneering sissit. But all hope of ever seeing any of that again died when the officer called sharply to him from the edge of the room, where as little of the sunlight as possible would bother his weak eyes. Reiffen took one last look at the sky, wishing he could say goodbye to the stars as well, then joined the officer at the door. Guards fell in behind and before him, and led him away.
The Wizards’ vast chamber was the same as he remembered it. The doors opened noiselessly once again; he walked through the circle of pillars alone to stand before the dais in the middle of the room. Fornoch was once more seated on the lowest step, while Ossdonc stood guard behind Usseis with his heavy sword girded to his belt, his long black cloak pulled aside to show the glint of his weapon.
Ossdonc grinned as the boy stood before the dais, more an ogre than a Wizard, but both Usseis and Fornoch appeared sad. They stared at Reiffen for some time as if expecting him to be the first to speak, giving him one last chance to change his mind. But Reiffen refused to give them that satisfaction. He waited impatiently for them to begin whatever it was they were going to do.
In the end Usseis spoke first. “It seems, Fornoch,” he said, “that your plans have failed. Always you are too subtle.”
“You are too impatient, Usseis. If you will only continue to wait you will have what you want in the end.”
“Bah,” growled Ossdonc, his hand on the pommel of his sword. “All we did was wait the last time, and see what happened then. Had you permitted me to loose my war bands upon the land there would have been nothing left for the cursed stone men to rescue.”
“Peace, Ossdonc,” said Usseis. “Though what you say is true. Even now, Fornoch, we might be treating with the Bryddin instead of needing to devise new ways to ruin them. And the Three Kingdoms would pay us proper homage.”
“All that will come, Usseis,” said Fornoch. “All that will come. If you hurry the process with this boy, however, it will take much longer.”
Ossdonc crossed his arms impatiently across his broad chest and rolled his eyes.
“We both agree that, willing subject or not, the boy will be what we need.”
“Yes,” said Fornoch. “But we also agree that, if he joins us freely, there will be fewer difficulties later on.”
“Areft would never have been so patient,” growled Ossdonc. “He would have crushed them all.” And Ossdonc, as if imagining himself in the role of his forebear, reached out his massive hand to crush imaginary victims in the air before him.
“Areft was destroyed by humans,” Fornoch reminded his more savage brother. “They are capable of much more than you are ever willing to understand. That is why we must be certain we have our nets wrapped about them completely before we take the next step.”
“Enough.” Usseis’s voice brought the attention of the other two Wizards back to himself. “I have made my decision. As the two of you are always quarreling it is up to me to choose our proper course.” He leaned forward. A brutal smile blazed across his face. “Think you, boy, that we cannot bend you to our will? If such a one as Mindrell can enthrall you, what then can I not do? Great gifts we have offered you, yet you see fit to reject them. Perhaps you need a taste of the other side of our nature.”
The Wizard lifted his hand until it was pointed, palm forward, at Reiffen. The fingers were spread wide apart, and through them Usseis’ eyes shone. Reiffen felt something jerk within him, as if his heart had been fetched forth and was now caught writhing within the Wizard’s hand. Slowly Usseis closed his fingers one by one around that unseen part of Reiffen now clutched in his magic grip. As each finger closed the boy felt bars of iron being laid across his chest. The last finger folded in. Usseis’ hand was now a fist pointing past Reiffen toward the doors behind him.
“Go,” ordered the Wizard. His voice had become deep and commanding, and rang out among the pillars as loudly as Ossdonc’s ever had. “Do as I would wish. When that is finished you are released.”
Then the Wizard waved his hand as if he were dismissing a dog. Or a bootblack.
Reiffen turned sharply and marched back across the towering room and on to the hall outside. Only this time his enchantment was much worse than it had been under Mindrell’s hand. This time he was aware of all he saw and did, as clearly as if he were still completely in control of himself. He felt his boots scuff across the dusty floor, and smelled the thick candles burning on the walls. He felt his heart pounding in furious fear inside his chest, and tasted the dryness of his mouth. And, worst of all, he knew exactly what his Master had ordered him to do, and followed the workings of his own mind as he, not his Master, decided upon the best way to accomplish the task that had been set before him.
He tried desperately to make himself stop. With every step he ordered his arms and legs to cease working. He tried frantically to close his eyes, so he wouldn’t be able to see where he was going, or find his prey. But his eyes, no more than his legs and arms, refused to obey him. In his fear and frustration he tried to scream, but he could neither say nor do anything that was not permitted. Anything that was of his own will was prevented. Only Usseis’ desire was allowed.
And so, outwardly purposeful but inwardly desperate, Reiffen watched himself hunt for Molio through the caves and tunnels of Ussene. It wasn’t hard to find him. All the time he had spent with the little man gave him a good idea just where Molio might be, and he soon found him setting new candles out on their holders in one of the corridors near the officers’ mess.
“Molio,” said Reiffen’s voice cunningly, even as the rest of him tried to cry out in warning. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”
“Something to show Molio, sir?” The little man’s eyes brightened eagerly. Maybe his friend had recovered from his sadness, and would be the way he had been before. “Something for Molio, sir?”
“Yes,” said Reiffen. “Something for Molio.”
But inside his head Reiffen was screaming, No! No! No! and trying as hard as he could to get his body to do what he wanted. But Molio could see nothing wrong, and trotted along happily behind his friend. No one had ever wanted Molio to see anything before. This was going to be a special day.
Reiffen led the way through the halls.
“Are we going to the Front Window, sir?” asked Molio when he recognized the passage.
“Yes.”
“Is that where the thing is, sir? The thing you want to show Molio?” The little man’s eyes glowed. His look reminded Reiffen of the time he had teased Skimmer with the lumps of maple sugar back in the canoe near Nokken Rock. But this time what he would do was far worse.
“Yes, Molio,” he said. He tried, once more without success, to bite his tongue. “That’s where it is.”
Molio bounded up the stair. Reiffen had never seen him so happy and excited. The little man raced ahead, then thought better of it as they approached the windowed room. It was broad daylight outside, and the soft gray light spilled forward down the corridor through the Window. But Molio’s instinctive caution had returned, and he let Reiffen pass on ahead before he followed.
Reiffen went straight to the Window.
“Is this what Molio is supposed to see, sir?” asked the little man, as if the Window itself was the most extraordinary thing he had ever beheld, now that Reiffen had taken such pains to show it to him. “It is beautiful, sir.” The little man caught his breath with joy.
“No, Molio,” said the false Reiffen. Inside he wanted to curl up into a ball and die. “It’s outside. Come and see.”
Molio, trusting his friend completely, scurried across the room. He put his small hands on the sill and stood on tiptoe to look out like a little child. “Where, sir? What is Molio looking for, sir?” he asked expectantly.
“Here,” said Reiffen. “Just below the Window on the other side.”
“Is it birdies, sir?” asked the little man. He scrabbled at the wall in his haste to climb onto the sill. “Molio’s never seen birdies, sir. I hope it’s birdies!”
“Let me help you.”
He seized the little man by the back of his tattered coat and, instead of helping him safely up into the Window, pushed him over the edge. Only as he began to fall did Molio even begin to sense his danger. He trusted his friend completely. “Sir!” he cried out. “Sir! I’m falling!” And then his shriek trailed off as he sailed out into the narrow slice of sky between the jagged cliffs. He weighed no more than a bird himself and Reiffen was able to fling him far beyond the Window. Even so the little man struck the face of the cliff several times before he hit the bottom, his short arms and legs waving frantically as he rolled and spun through the air. The false Reiffen made himself lean far out over the edge of the Window to watch the entire fall, and to hear Molio’s piteous cries. One glance had Reiffen of the little man’s face before Molio was gone, and in that moment the boy saw all the hurt and sorrow that had ever befallen his friend. Molio’s small eyes glistened mournfully. His wretched life was complete. Then he was gone, like a stone dropped into the lake from the top of the Neck.
Reiffen tried to tear himself away from the Window; he tried to close his eyes. But he still had no control over himself. Only at the very end, when Molio had landed soundlessly on the ground so far below, and the guards at the Front Gate had emerged to see what had happened and were pointing upward as they clustered in the courtyard, was the boy finally able to throw himself back into the room.
He shuddered. He moaned. He rolled in his misery along the dusty floor until he was filthy with tears and dirt. For a long time he was not himself, so complete was the shame of what he had done. It was his own mind that had tricked and cheated Molio. Usseis had given him no instruction. His only command had been to kill the little man. Reiffen had conceived the rest. From his own heart had come the means of the little man’s dying. Reiffen had known Molio would follow him blindly to the Window and never even try to save himself. Reiffen was his friend. And the knowledge that he could do such a thing left the boy trembling on the floor. A cold wind from the Window scoured the room around him.
It was a long time before he came to his senses. And when he did his first thought was to throw himself after Molio. But, as he raced to the Window, he felt Usseis’ hand upon him once more and his body stopped short of his purpose. And then he knew there was no escape for him, and wept bitterly again. Only this time his weeping led to exhaustion as well as despair.
He awoke in darkness. For a long time he lay on the floor, forgetting where he was and everything that had happened. Then he felt the chill breeze from the Window and remembered it all. He tried to cry again, but there was nothing left.
Something whispered softly. Reiffen started, thinking Molio’s ghost had risen from the stony depths to creep back into the fortress and haunt him. Then he felt the wetness in the breeze and realized he was hearing rain beyond the Window. The pattering drops were soothing; it wasn’t long before he had fallen asleep again. He was young, and nightmares were still only dreams to him, dreams that could be forgotten, if only for a little while. For a long time he slept, troubled only by the nagging at the back of his imagination that, when he woke, there would be an uncertain price left for him to pay.
When he did wake the rain had stopped. A clear dawn filtered through the Front Window, leaving a soft square of light upon the hard stone floor. Wearily he rose. His entire body ached, as if he had spent the previous day slaving away in the stables or being taught how to wrestle by Redburr. And he was still very tired despite having slept the better part of the previous day and night.
He was completely beaten. There was nothing left within him with which to fight the Three any longer. He felt withered and unclean. Without even thinking about where he was going he wandered off from the Front Room and back into the main parts of the fortress. For hours he wandered aimlessly, barely even noticing the guards.
In the end he found himself at the Library door. He had known he would come here eventually. For a moment he stood reluctantly outside. He really didn’t want to go into the Library now. That was a change from the way he had been before, because before he had always fought with himself to stay away. Now that he had no other choice, the itch no longer plagued him. Maybe some other day he would be able to take up the struggle again. Now he lacked the strength. There was no fear. His hand didn’t even tremble as he twisted the iron knob and passed inside, to the books and the spider and the stone.