Ibryen Read online

  Then, without warning, she was in a world of light. Shapes of all colours were moving about her, some swift like flitting birds, some like slowly changing clouds, some like cascading, tangling ribbons. How near or far she could not have said, for there was nothing against which size could be judged. She reached out, but, like the images of the lanterns, the shapes seemed to pass through her. And with the shapes there came also sounds. The fleeting hints she had heard previously rose to become a great clamour. Sometimes it was a babbling chorus, sometimes a single voice, though she could make out no words. And, rising and falling in the background, was a noise that was perhaps thunder, perhaps a great crowd cheering, perhaps a roaring wind, perhaps something the like of which she had never even imagined.

  The suddenness of the transformation made her start violently.

  The Gevethen answered her question before she asked it.

  ‘We are at the Gateway to the Ways, Lord Counsellor. Beyond here are all the things that can be, and that cannot be. The myriad worlds that lie between the worlds.’

  The shapes and colours about her danced to the rhythm of their words.

  ‘I don’t understand, Excellencies,’ she said. ‘I can see nothing but…’

  ‘Confusion…’

  ‘… Confusion.’

  ‘You stand at the edges of the worlds beyond. They echo here.’

  ‘Escape.’

  ‘Exude.’

  ‘But pass beyond and…’

  The sentence remained unfinished, but fear and doubt coloured all about Jeyan.

  She became aware of the Gevethen reaching out. The shapes and sounds changed in response to their movement. For an instant, Jeyan felt herself standing in a bright summer field, then at the edge of a great lake, then at the heart of a great city, but then the impressions were gone and she was gazing down what appeared to be a vast tunnel. It tapered into an unseeable distance.

  ‘Ah…’

  It was a soft exclamation of gratified desire. But even as it formed, the tunnel began to twist and convulse, as if it were the tail of some monstrous animal. Jeyan could feel the Gevethen struggling to stop this wayward movement, but the greater the effort they put forward, the more the paroxysms of the tunnel increased until finally, with a soul-wrenching screech it whirled into a giddying vortex and was gone.

  Jeyan felt the Gevethen stop whatever it was they had been doing and through the tumult she heard them whispering to one another.

  ‘This place is ours.’Petulant.

  ‘But He tests us yet.’Fearful and resigned.

  The brief exchange wrapped a cloak of human concerns about the Gevethen which unexpectedly fired Jeyan. She stood very still and made no response, sensing somehow that to acknowledge having heard it would be to die instantly in this eerie place. As it was, she felt a decision being made.

  ‘Hold firm to us, Lord Counsellor.’

  Without knowing why she did it, Jeyan brought her hands up to seize the Gevethen’s hands holding her shoulders, for fear she might suddenly be relinquished. And, though she felt no change, she was in another place.

  It was dark and cold.

  ‘Where…?’

  ‘Many eyes the glasses give us, to watch our foolish subjects. And many chambers they have.’

  The answer was meaningless but it did not matter for, slowly, Jeyan was becoming aware of a brooding presence all around her. It was not that of the Gevethen, though – she still clung to their hands fearfully – yet it was familiar. There was a quality about it that she had sensed only recently. A bizarre mixture of malevolence and vanity, of weakness bolstered and shielded by great power.

  It was Hagen!

  The Hagen whose overweening spirit she had measured as she gazed about his room. But it couldn’t be! He was dead, and by her hand. She had seen him die. Exulted in it. Been captured and bound for it. The presence touched her.

  Itwas Hagen.

  She recoiled in horror, grasping desperately at the hands holding her shoulders, imploring them, but they would allow her no movement.

  What was this place?

  ‘You are the misbegotten creature who brought me to this?’

  The words formed in Jeyan’s mind. They were full of blistering hatred. Most would have quailed before such an onslaught, but, like flint to sparking flint, it served only to bring back to Jeyan her own hatred for the man she had killed. In full force, it flared up through the clamouring demands of her tottering reason and brushed aside the cautious acquiescence she had carefully nurtured before the Gevethen. It reached out through the darkness, clawing, gathering strength as she felt Hagen’s presence retreat before it. But, abruptly, she was restrained. Hagen’s presence began to close about her horrifically.

  ‘You shall be the vessel of my return to the world. Within you I shall complete the work that you so sacrilegiously cut short.’

  ‘That cannot be.’

  The Gevethen’s icy voices cut through Hagen’s ranting venom and tore him away effortlessly.

  ‘Your place in that world is ended. Your task is completed. There can be no return for you. Perhaps when the Ways are opened again may a place be found for you as you were.’

  Then they were full of rage.

  ‘And talk not of sacrilege. You are a mere servant of servants. It was an honour given to few to be allowed to serve Him as you did. That His blessing is with you is shown by your being here instead of being scattered, howling, between the worlds. You are here now to instruct the child. She is kin else she could not have come here. She will continue your work.’

  ‘I have been betrayed.’ Bitterness and rancour filled the voice.

  It met only disdain.

  ‘You are beneath such effort. Mysterious are His ways. You were the first. You were flawed. The child is less so. And still less so will be those who follow her. When there is one who can truly stand in our place, then will the Ways be opened again and then shall we be at His left hand when the great righting of the Beginning is begun.’

  The words were portentous, but there was no reply. Only a sullen silence.

  ‘Instruct well.’

  And, to Jeyan,‘Learn well.’

  The hands that were holding her, and to which she was clinging, were gone. Hagen wrapped all about her, she was falling. Faster and faster she fell, the darkness passing through her, possessing her. She screamed in terror, but she could hear no sound. Yet, as the touch of Hagen had rekindled her deep hatred for him, so, in the wake of her scream came the hatred she had for the Gevethen. Fuelled by the awful revelation of the continued existence of Hagen, albeit in some place that seemed to be beyond the world in which Nesdiryn lay, it drove out the darkness, and Hagen’s presence shivered. She screamed again, a scream of primeval rage.

  A fine tapering line of light, bright and unbearable, split into the rushing darkness, like a stabbing needle. Her scream continued, though still she could hear no sound. The line widened and penetrated further and others formed at its root, spreading and spreading, tearing apart the darkness like slowly shattering glass.

  She could feel consciousness slipping from her. The frenzy of the pursuit and the fighting in the Ennerhald flashed into her mind; Assh and Frey, bloodstained muzzles and wild eyes. Glinting blades. Abruptly her scream became the shrill whistle that she used to summon the dogs. The lightning-flash cracks spread and shattered the lingering fabric of the darkness that bound her. She felt herself staggering backwards.

  The hands were holding her again. She was gasping desperately for breath and shaking violently. And she was gazing at her reflection in the mirror, the red-lipped moon faces of the Gevethen on either side of her, watery eyes fixed on her. For a moment, the images rippled, as though they were reflections in a disturbed pool. Then they were still, perfect again. And the Gevethen were talking.

  ‘She is kin.’

  Uncertainty.

  ‘She is flawed.’

  ‘She will learn.’

  ‘Return to your quarters, Lord Counsel
lor.’

  ‘Rest.’

  ‘Ponder.’

  ‘You will have duties soon…’

  ‘… soon.’

  ‘Much to learn…’

  ‘… to learn.’

  Dark amusement.

  The mirror-bearers folded around her and, almost oblivious to what was happening, Jeyan found herself marching from the Watching Chamber and through the Citadel amid a crowd of haunted likenesses. They accompanied her to Hagen’s quarters and, as before, the servants had bathed and dressed her, so now they removed her uniform, dressed her in night-clothes and placed her in Hagen’s bed. This time she was too shocked to resist, though she managed to stop one of the servants from extinguishing all the lanterns before they left. She needed no more darkness.

  The bed was comfort such as she had not known in years, but she was scarcely aware of it. Her mind was filled totally with what had just happened. But what had happened? Had it all been some strange sleight of hand by the Gevethen? Were they after all no more than street entertainers who had tricked their way into power? The very foolishness of the idea was not without attraction, but it could not be thus, she knew. It was no idle trick that had taken charge of her limbs as she had knelt at their feet in the dungeons, contemplating a desperate slashing attack upon them. Nor was there any deception in the power that had marched her much of the way to the Watching Chamber. As for the force that had threatened to crush her when she had asked about the mysterious person before whom the Gevethen seemed to quail – she put a hand on her chest and took a deep breath at the memory – she did not want to think about that too closely. No, whatever else they were, the Gevethen were not charlatans. They possessed real and awful power the like of which she could not begin to understand. Power that she had never even heard of save in old tales and myths. Impossible though it seemed, she must accept that she had been carried through the two mirrors become one, and into a place that was… where?

  It did not matter. It had existed, she was certain, though her hands gripped the soft sheet she was lying on for support in the face of such a thought. It had been too solid to have the quality of a piece of trickery. And too, she had felt the Gevethen’s reactions. They would not willingly have exposed their fears to her as they came to that mysterious turmoil they called the Gateway to the Ways, for the sake of a petty trick. Nor would they have shown their excitement at the opening of the great tunnel and their frustrated anger as it had vanished despite their efforts. Their whispered exchange, with its all too human quality, and the further revelation of a power beyond even them, returned to her suddenly and hung in her mind like a clarion call. Not only did it reinforce her acceptance of the alarming reality of what had happened, it also revealed to her that the Gevethen were as lost in that strange world as she was. The realization thrilled through her, turning her from fearful prey to cautious predator again. The thoughts of suicide she had been nurturing faded to be replaced by others, older and more familiar. I’ll kill you both, yet. I’ll lay you dead at the feet of this… master… of yours, whoever He is.

  As for Hagen, her first reaction to realizing that he still existed had been one of horror. But so many perspectives had changed since her capture and the close contact she had had with the Gevethen, that the shock was already fading. For what was Hagen now? A misshapen spirit growling in the darkness. Further, she was protected from him in some way, perhaps even by the Gevethen themselves. She smiled at the irony into the shadowy gloom of Hagen’s own room. It was fitting that such a man should come to such an end. ‘May you remain there for all eternity and may the spirits of your victims rise up to torment you,’ she whispered. It was the kind of dark and bloody vision that had often warmed her twilight thoughts when she was in the Ennerhald.

  As she slipped finally into sleep, her last thoughts were not of Hagen, or the Gevethen. They were of something she had heard – felt – as she had splintered through the failing darkness to return to the Watching Chamber. She had grasped it tight to herself breathlessly and had hardly dared think about it since for fear that in some way the Gevethen might sense it. But, faint and distant, yet quite distinct, she had heard Assh and Frey baying, hunting.

  * * * *

  Despite the comfort of her bed, she woke the next day as she invariably did, alert and watchful. Though the only light in the room was that of the solitary lantern, she knew that it would be just past sunrise. She lay still as the chaotic and disturbing events of the past three days rushed in upon her. For some time she tried to bring some order to them, but in vain. She could do no other than accept the reality of what had happened, but it made no more sense now than it had before and, despite her optimism of the previous night, or perhaps because of it, the future still seemed to be dark and fearful – suicide and murder sharing it equally.

  Eventually, reaching no new conclusions, she managed to let her thoughts go and made to get out of bed. No sooner had she thrown the blankets back however, than the servants glided into the room. Her first reaction was to oppose them as she had the previous day, but sensing that this would be just as futile, she abandoned the idea. What followed was nevertheless as disconcerting as before, as she was undressed and bathed and then dressed in her uniform. To take her mind off the indignity of the proceedings she took the opportunity to study these strange people. She felt no need to gain friends in this place – her time in Ennerhald had taught her that no one was to be trusted, and these people were probably here as much to spy on her as help her. But she did need to learn what hierarchy existed – who did what, and for whom, who was weak or inept, who strong, who corruptible, who not.

  So she co-operated, helping where she could, and constantly looking into their eyes. And she was rewarded, for there were signs to be read there. Slight, admittedly, but sufficient for a predator such as she was, made acutely sensitive by her hunger for freedom. Mainly they were signs only of fear, but there were hesitant hints of gratitude from time to time. And then there were small tasks that she was allowed to do for herself.

  When the servants had finished with her they set about laying a table. Jeyan went to one of the windows and lifted the corner of a heavy curtain a little. Sunlight flooded in. She felt an agitated stir behind her and turned. The bright beam had dulled the lantern-light and the servants were standing motionless like vague shadows in a dun, unreal twilight. For a moment, Jeyan thought she was looking at an old and soiled picture, then, without knowing why, she said, ‘Sorry,’ and slowly closed the curtain. As the lanterns repossessed the room, the servants became real again and continued their tasks as though nothing had happened. Jeyan watched them.

  ‘Don’t you like the light?’ she asked.

  There was no reply, though one of them turned to her briefly. For a moment, a snarling urge took hold of her to fling the curtains wide and flood these half-creatures with cleansing daylight, but she resisted it. Nothing was to be gained from such a gratuitously disturbing act and perhaps potential allies were to be lost. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ she said, making a deliberate decision to talk to them as much as possible to see what response she would get.

  ‘I’m not Lord Counsellor Hagen, you know,’ she went on. ‘If it was he who insisted on your staying silent and on your dancing attendance on him at every moment like the Gevethen’s mirror-bearers, this is not something I wish.’ The servants stopped moving and stared at her. Their silent observation threatened to release the anger she had just stilled. It emerged in a different form. She would get a response! Moving to the table she picked up a knife then looked round at the still-watching servants. She spoke slowly and very deliberately. ‘Lord Hagen, your erstwhile master, is dead. I killed him. Killed him with a knife that’s probably lying about somewhere in this place. My dogs overturned his carriage and I jumped on to it and stabbed him as he stood in the doorway.’ She pushed the knife into a loaf of bread forcefully. ‘Stuck him like a pig. He was as mortal as you or I. Now he’s no more. And I’m in his place.’ Her announcement did not h
ave the effect she envisaged. The servants just continued to watch her in silence. She gazed at them for some considerable time but still there was no reaction. It came to her, frighteningly, that perhaps they were used to seeing violence and remaining silent in its presence. She tried another, gentler approach. ‘Many of the things you did for me, yesterday and just now, I should prefer to do for myself. It is my will that you speak to me and ask what I require. Do you understand?’

  Again, briefly, Jeyan felt that she was staring at a picture as the servants gazed back at her blankly. Then, as if they had never stopped, they were about their tasks again.

  Jeyan snatched the knife from the loaf and stabbed it twice, violently. ‘Do you understand?’ she shouted. At the second blow, the knife passed through the loaf and struck the plate underneath. The point screeched unpleasantly, and the servants became motionless once more. ‘Do you understand?’ she repeated, more softly.

  She was aware of a flittering communication between them. One of them, a woman, turned to her. ‘Lord Counsellor, it is not approved of, speaking,’ she said.

  Jeyan looked at her. It was the woman whose gaze had told her so much when she had recognized Hagen’s uniform and tried to tear it off. Jeyan waited, but the woman did not elaborate.

  ‘Who doesn’t approve?’ Jeyan asked finally.

  ‘Their Excellencies.’

  ‘Why?’

  There was a subtle stir amongst the still-motionless group. ‘Their Excellencies are not to be questioned, Lord Counsellor.’

  Jeyan remembered again the weight that had threatened to crush the life out of her when she had questioned them. She nodded. ‘Are you servants to their Excellencies?’ she asked after some thought.

  ‘We are not worthy. We lack the perfection for the way that will be.’

  Jeyan frowned. ‘What way is that?’ she asked.