“Tomorrow I’m going to try creating hot food,” Ailanthe said, sweeping all her tiny bones into a pile and sending them somewhere Miriethiel couldn’t find them later. She hoped. She thought they went where the cushions had, but she still didn’t know where that was, and so far nothing bad had happened. Or something bad had happened, and she didn’t know about it yet. Better just to assume everything was fine.
“My lady, if you can bring me a roast chicken I shall be eternally in your debt,” Tristram said.
“Agreed,” Coren said. He dusted crumbs off his trousers—he really had developed the most appalling habits, and if she weren’t so in love with him, they might have been off-putting—and leaned back against the eastern wall of windows. “So. This diary. Gweron built the Castle.”
“I think so. I’m afraid I couldn’t stop myself reading it, most of it anyway.”
“Understandable, my lady,” Tristram said, bowing without standing, which took some doing even for him. “A woman’s natural curiosity would make such an action inevitable.”
Coren rolled his eyes. Ailanthe stifled the urge to throw something at Tristram. “Gweron was extremely methodical. He starts by writing about his experiments on non-living things, both creating them and using magic to put them together, like this house he builds himself. He says it’s because Rhedyth has to be built by combining smaller units instead of being formed all at once through magic.”
“What is Rhedyth, pray tell?”
“It’s obviously the Castle,” Coren said drily. Tristram glared at him.
“Gweron wanted the Castle to do something to make the world a better place,” Ailanthe went on, ignoring the byplay. “He’s always saying things like ‘it is sorely needed in this fallen world.’”
“So he meant it to do something,” Coren said. “But is it doing what he had in mind, or not?”
“Perhaps, good sir, we should allow the lady to continue?” Tristram said, and it was Coren’s turn to glare.
“Thank you, Tristram,” Ailanthe said, torn between enjoying watching the two men puff out their chests like bantams and feeling impatient that they weren’t taking this seriously. “I’m getting to that. Next he moves on to experiments with living things. Gweron had a very organized mind, I think. I wonder if his notes are somewhere in that study. Here, let me read this part.”
She read on: “‘The initial magic was successful. The grove of trees perfectly encircles my house, though to my shame I did not realize the magic would duplicate the tree I used as a model rather than create unique organisms. An amateur's mistake, and one I do not intend to repeat. However, the principle is sound, and I believe after one more trial I shall allow myself to celebrate. I have already enshrined the model and at this moment am admiring it on the shelf. But I have no time for self-congratulatory reflection. On to the next trial!’ Did you notice what he wrote about enshrining his model? I think that could be the tree in the water-globe we found in the study.”
“Likely,” Coren said. “But please continue.”
“Most of this is technical and a little boring. Let me skim ahead…something about learning how living organisms are all the same…long lists of what he’s created…here, this is interesting: ‘The creation of intelligent life lies at the heart of my plans for Rhedyth, and I confess myself a trifle reluctant to proceed as lightheartedly as I have heretofore been. And yet do not the commonest of folk, men and women of intellectual vacuity, see fit to bring new life into the world? How much greater a creation might I engender, clear-sighted and logical as I am? Thus do I cast off such fears and begin what will be the key to my greatest creation.’ ‘Men and women of intellectual vacuity’? He sounds terribly pompous.”
“Methinks he sounds but clear-sighted and rational,” Tristram said. “I have often reflected that it is a pity there be no mechanism in nature to encourage those of high breeding to reproduce more successfully than their lesser brethren and sisters.”
“I’m glad you’re not in charge of nature,” Coren said. That earned him a glare from Tristram.
“Well, he talks about what he creates…I think these ‘pixies’ of his are our sprites, and he says they’re intelligent.”
“That’s a surprise,” Coren said. “They’ve never struck me as very bright.”
“I gather they’re just bright enough to take simple commands. Too bad we don’t know how to do that.”
She turned a page or two. “Listen to this: ‘I envy the kerthors of my homeland at times like this, however ridiculous that might seem, as I am certain it is possible to play the flute when one’s head is stuffed and one’s nose drips incessantly. However my own, unique magic works, it is most definitely affected by the condition of the body. This miserable cold has affected my exercise regimen as well. If only there were a way to work magic upon oneself!’”
“I wonder that he wrote about something so mundane as a simple illness.”
“Tristram, the important thing is that he says he’s not a kerthor. That explains so much! No lone kerthor could have built this Castle—probably not even a hundred kerthors. Gweron’s magic was unique.”
“As yours is,” Coren pointed out.
“I couldn’t do any of the things he writes about,” Ailanthe said. “I certainly can’t create life, intelligent or otherwise.”
“Yet you, my lady, have been exercising your powers for a mere handful of weeks, if I am not mistaken. Who knows but that you may yet discover strange new talents?”
The idea made Ailanthe’s stomach clench. Whatever magic she possessed, she welcomed only so far as it was a weapon against the Castle. That she might discover new abilities—that she might have anything in common with Gweron—raised the old fear that she might be turning into some creature of magic, someone no longer human with none of the dreams and desires that made her Ailanthe.
She didn’t know what expression passed across her face, but it made Coren sit forward and say, “Is it something disturbing?”
She made herself smile at him and shake her head. “No, just confusing. He says he succeeded at creating intelligent life, then that he failed—oh, I understand now. He was trying to put intelligence into non-living things, apparently to make servants for the Castle. Like a broom that sweeps by itself. Only he found out it was impossible. Then—oh, Miriethiel!”
The cat leaped onto her lap when she said his name, forcing her to lift both book and lens as he kneaded himself a nest in her lap. “I will remove the beast from you, my lady,” Tristram said, but she waved him away when he was halfway up from his chair.
“No, that was coincidence. Gweron made Miriethiel. Listen. Move your tail, cat. ‘I cannot decide what name I shall give the animal. I believe I have made him of more than usual feline intelligence, though I refrained from giving him human intellect and voice; such an act would violate the natural order, and my desire to serve mankind does not extend to elevating the beasts of the field to an equal status with man. He is, however, a most handsome animal, black with pleasant white markings and a companionably silent purr, and I confess I have altered him somewhat in extending his lifespan. After all, I know not how long my own life will extend, and I desire a companion to ease my lonely hours.’” She scratched behind the cat’s ears and he began to vibrate. “Did you hear that, Miriethiel? You’re a most handsome animal.”
“And he’s several centuries old. Gweron does good work,” Coren said. Miriethiel lifted his head and looked in Coren’s direction, as if accepting a compliment.
“Then there’s more about living creatures, and something about the Castle needing to be enormous to provide enough magic for the—he calls it the ‘destiny spell.’ Doesn’t that sound familiar? Then—I’m just going to read this. ‘To know a person’s heart, truly to know it, necessitates awareness, but to provide a thing that will bring out the best in that person—that means creation, and analysis not only of the person but of the world as well. Would that I were capable of such wisdom…but no, Rhedyth is the answer, and men and women everywhere will make their way here and be changed forever.’”
“But that is what the Castle does!” Tristram exclaimed, leaping to his feet. “It reads our hearts and gives us an object that sends us to our destiny! So then why does it not do so for you, my lady? It is a true mystery.”
“Sit down, Tristram, Ailanthe won’t read any faster for you looming over her,” Coren said.
“I think it’s perfectly natural for us to be excited, Coren,” Ailanthe said, doing some glaring of her own. “And I didn’t get far enough to have an answer to that question, but—just let me finish this, all right? What I did read left me a little frightened.”
She used the lens to find her place again. “Lots of organizing. More work on putting the pieces together. Then there’s this piece: ‘It was as if the Honor Hall, as I call it, wanted to come into existence. The simplicity of its structure belies the immense complexity of the magic at its heart. Here men and women will come to have their hearts read and their destinies woven. Hence will heroes go to free the world from tyranny and sorrow. Its magic is so powerful I have had to surround it with another chamber of pillared and vaulted stone to anchor it to the physical world. It is exquisite. Almost I cannot believe the mind of man created such a thing of beauty and power.’ He really loved this place.”
“Would that we might have known this great man,” Tristram said. “His vision was extraordinary.”
“Even if he was a bit of a self-righteous ass,” Coren said.
“You call it self-righteous to wish for the betterment of mankind and to take action to see it come to pass?”
“I think he had some pretty strong ideas about what kind of people deserved to be bettered.”
“He created the Castle precisely because he felt his own wisdom was inadequate to the task. I see not how that can be held to his discredit.”
“If you both don’t mind,” Ailanthe said, now widening her glare to include Tristram, “I’d rather set aside the question of Gweron’s personality in favor of learning why the Castle won’t let me go.”
Tristram nodded. “I beg your pardon, my lady. Mayhap my enthusiasm overwhelmed me momentarily.”
“Thank you. I forgot where I was. All right. So he built the Honor Hall and started assembling rooms around it. They had to go in in exactly the right order to make the magic work—he doesn’t really go into detail about that, except that most of them were places he remembers from his travels. He mentions one called the Atelier that I think is this room—he created it with all the contents intact. At least we know he’s not the one who made that horrible painting.”
“It doesn’t make me like him any better.”
“But he also says for most of the rooms, he summoned the furnishings rather than creating them. Like your sword, Coren—isn’t it interesting to wonder who it might have belonged to, centuries ago?”
“Just so they don’t come looking for it now. I’m sort of attached to it.”
“And he writes about making the food stores so their contents never rot, and the museum rooms, and that goes on for a while, until we get to this. Be patient, it’s long.
“‘This morning I discovered five new rooms had been added, two of them planned by myself and three that came from no thought of mine that I could discover. I can scarcely credit it, but further analysis and study reveal there is only one possible conclusion: Rhedyth is alive.
‘This throws all my research into question. I was never able to succeed in imbuing non-living things with intelligence, nor could I create such intelligent objects with any measure of success. I believe—though this is subject to further evidence—that the vast quantity of magic has produced a kind of limited awareness that allows Rhedyth to, as it were, participate in its own construction. It staggers the mind.
‘And yet…why not? Do not creatures who are aware seek to better their lot? If this magic has indeed created new…I hesitate to call it “life,” but for lack of a better word…new life, would it not take an interest in its own creation? I must study this phenomenon more, and hope that Rhedyth understands the plans for its construction well enough not to add anything that would be detrimental to my intent.’”
Coren closed his eyes. Tristram stood and paced in a large circle, passing near the western windows but not looking out over the darkened valley. “It confirms what we have guessed,” he said.
“It chilled me, seeing it written down so bluntly,” Ailanthe said. “The idea of the Castle paying attention to things…I’d hoped it was just, I don’t know, a figure of speech. Some way for us to come to terms with what we experience. But Gweron seemed convinced he was right.”
“We must be like bits of sand in an oyster to it,” Coren said, not opening his eyes. “Though I doubt it’s trying to turn us into pearls.”
“Unless that is in fact what it does to its questers, good sir,” Tristram said. “Give them a destiny and send them out into the world to make them greater than they were.”
Ailanthe closed the book on the lens. “We’re almost to the place where I stopped reading. It’s…it’s not good, what comes next. Even not knowing the end, I can tell you that.”
“Please, my lady, continue,” Tristram said. “I find myself anxious on our friend Gweron’s behalf.”
Coren opened his eyes and looked at her. “Does it say how to free you?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then definitely keep reading.”
Ailanthe opened the book and took a moment to find her place. The symbols quivered as if they didn’t want to be read, but the lens fixed them in place. Did they know what had happened to their master?
“I think this part is important. ‘I stood in the Honor Hall and marveled anew at its creation. That my dream is so close to being realized—a dream of a world in which men and women become better than they are, in which they spread out across the lands to make the world a better place. I seek not for the glory, merely to be the creator of that which makes my dream possible. I sat on the empty floor and spoke to Rhedyth, feeling at once embarrassed and exhilarated at doing so. I told it of my plans and of its role in them, and—dare I write it?—praised it for its help and its desire to join with me in this dream. Did I write, once, that I thought to have no other companion than the cat (who continues silent on the matter of his name)? Now I realize I could have no better companion than this, my life’s work.’ He sounds so…joyful, there.
“Anyway, the construction goes on for a while. But then the Castle starts to…to fight him, I suppose. Stops adding rooms and starts actively trying to keep him from completing it. He says he has to fight it for control over every scrap of carpet he adds. Also, the Castle tried that trick with the weapons on him.”
“But why? That is to say, my lady, why would the Castle turn on its master?”
“Here’s what Gweron wrote about that. ‘I have spent many hours trying to determine why Rhedyth became aware and then turned on me. It is obvious now that Rhedyth has far more intelligence than I initially believed. If I am correct, and its awareness and growing sapience are the result of a vast quantity of magic imbuing a single—I suppose “entity” is the best word, though it chills me to think it—then it is not beyond possibility that an increasing amount of magic, combined with what I previously learned about the impossibility of creating an intelligent object, means that Rhedyth is insane, and in its insanity is striking out against me. What I fear most is that Rhedyth will attempt to warp the destiny spell at its core, and that I simply cannot allow.’ He tried to dismantle the Castle, but it fought back—obviously it was successful, or we wouldn’t be here. And that’s as far as I got.”
“So we’re not just irritants inside an intelligent building, we’re irritants inside an insane intelligent building,” Coren said.
“It’s no wonder its attacks are unpredictable,” Ailanthe said. “And that it allows us to do some things and resists others.”
“But this is terrible news, my lady. This implies that your captivity here follows no law of magic or reason, and that your freedom may not be obtained but by the whim of the Castle.”
“Stop making assumptions, Galendishman.”
“No, he’s right, Coren, and I thought of that while I was reading,” Ailanthe said. “It doesn’t seem like there’s anything to be gained by worrying about that possibility. I’m going to read the rest aloud, if you don’t mind.” She rubbed her eyes and began.
“‘Library as expected. Summoned a few books as a test and found myself opposed. Rhedyth gains in strength, though only within itself—it still lacks the power to prevent me building more. It has not yet touched the destiny spell. Hope this is because it does not know what it is.
“‘Construction on final floor almost complete. Tried to summon food and discovered Rhedyth’s control over its contents stronger than I can break. Forced to descend to the kitchens and collect supplies. The shadows move. The sprites seem unaffected by our battle, and at least I can take heart that Rhedyth bears them no malice, my poor stupid creatures.
“‘I maintain control over my study and it is a haven to me. Construction on tower begun. I weep to think of how shoddy it is compared to the beauty—and Rhedyth, despite its insanity, is still beautiful—of the rest of my construction. Tomorrow I will link Rhedyth to the geographical points prepared months ago; this may distract it enough that I can finish the tower and complete the spell.
“‘It is a measure of how much has gone wrong that I leaped and pranced in excitement when the geographical linkage worked smoothly. I feel as though I am myself losing my mental faculties. The shadows definitely move, most likely an overflow of magic. I cannot imagine what horrors Rhedyth might visit upon me were I to allow them to surround me. I carry many magical lights with me when I am forced to leave the study.
“‘Rhedyth spoke to me this morning. I did not understand its speech and did not want to.
“‘The tower’s construction proceeds slowly. Rhedyth fights me for every inch. I refuse to give in. I have put too much of my own power into its building for it to kill me without destroying itself, yet I believe it may have other ways of neutralizing me. Would that I could return in time to tell my brash, impetuous younger self to find some other way of bettering the world!
“‘The tower is complete. I cannot activate the destiny spell from my study, and therefore am forced to leave this place of security. I shall place safeguards upon the most important of my magical creations, lock this book away, and make my way to where I hope I may break Rhedyth’s control. Should this be my final entry, and I still hold hope that it will not, then, future reader, flee this place.’”
By the time she reached the end, Ailanthe’s throat was dry, not from speaking, but from a tight horrified numbness that threatened to envelop her. She closed the book and laid the lens atop its cover, holding both in place because Miriethiel still occupied her lap. He was sleeping lightly, one white-tipped ear flicking whenever she moved.
She looked around the room at the few dark corners remaining, which seemed free of moving shadows, or an overflow of magic as Gweron called them. She’d almost been swallowed by them. She wanted to be sick, but swallowed hard and breathed slowly until the incipient panic subsided.
“It could not kill him,” Tristram said.
“Yes, but it doesn’t have any reason not to kill us,” Coren said. “And I wonder why it hasn’t. Damn it, I lived here for six years without seeing anything stranger than things disappearing after midnight. Then—” He closed his mouth abruptly and turned to stare out at the moonlit waves.
“Then I came,” Ailanthe continued for him, “and everything changed.”
“This isn’t your fault,” he said.
“Isn’t it? All right, not ‘fault’ exactly, but my presence certainly seems to have triggered something. I’m the one it keeps attacking.”
“Except for the weapons. Ailanthe—”
“I believe you have both failed to grasp the most important lesson of this diary,” Tristram said. He stopped pacing and came to stand in front of Ailanthe. “You, my lady, most assuredly have power like that of Gweron.”