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‘Indeed, but persuading them toward what end?’ Master Juwain asked. ‘Merely meeting in conclave? Making an alliance? Or making war?’
This word, dreadful and dark, stabbed into my heart like the long sword I wore at my side. It was as heavy and burdensome as the steel rings of the mail that encased my limbs and pulled me down toward the earth. Once, in my father’s castle, in my home, I had dressed otherwise, in simple tunics or even in my hunting greens. But now that I was Lord Guardian of the Lightstone, I went about armored at all times – especially with the Red Dragon’s priests waiting to get close to a small golden cup.
‘If we make an alliance,’ I told Master Juwain, ‘then perhaps we won’t have to make war.’
It was my deepest dream, I told myself, to end war – forever.
‘An alliance,’ Master Juwain said, shaking his head. ‘I’m afraid that the Red Dragon will never be defeated this way.’
‘It is not necessary to defeat him,’ I said. ‘At least not outright, in battle. It will be enough if we secure the Free Kingdoms. Then, with the Brotherhoods working at the Dragon Kingdoms from within, and the Alliance doing the same from without, the realms Morjin has conquered can be won back one by one.’
‘I see how your thinking has progressed since I went away.’
‘It is not just my thinking, sir. It’s that of my father and brothers.’
‘But what of the Lightstone, then?’
‘It is the Lightstone,’ I said, ‘that makes all this possible.’
‘But what of the one for whom the Lightstone was meant? Have you given thought, as I’ve asked, to this Shining One?’
Master Juwain poured our tea then. Through the steaming liquid, I watched the little bits of leaves swirl about and then settle into my cup.
‘There’s been thought of little else,’ I told him. ‘But the Free Kingdoms should be strengthened so that the Shining One can come forth without fear. Then Morjin will have much to fear.’
‘Indeed, he would,’ Master Juwain said. ‘But will the Red Dragon be content while you make alliance against him? Your way, I’m afraid, is that of the sword.’
‘Perhaps,’ I said, letting my hand rest on the seven diamonds set into the swan-carved hilt of my sword.
‘We’ve all seen enough evil for one lifetime, Val.’
I drew my sword then, and held it so that it caught the sunlight streaming in through the western window. Its long blade, wrought of silustria, shimmered like a silver mirror. Its edges were keen enough to cut steel even as the power of the silustria cut through darkness and gave me to see, sometimes, the truth of things. The sword’s maker had named it Alkaladur. In all the history of Ea, no greater work of gelstei had ever been accomplished, and none more beautiful.
‘This sword,’ I said to Master Juwain, ‘is not evil.’
‘No, perhaps not. But it can do evil things.’
Maram took a sip of his tea and grimaced at its bitterness.
Then he said, ‘There can’t be enough evil for Morjin and all his kind.’
‘Do not speak so,’ Master Juwain said, holding up his hand. ‘Please, Brother Maram, I ask you to –’
‘Sar Maram, I’m called now,’ Maram said, patting the sword that he wore sheathed at his side. It was a Valari kalama, like unto length and symmetry as my sword, only forged of the finest Godhran steel.
‘Sar Maram, then,’ Master Juwain murmured, bowing his bald head. ‘You mustn’t wish evil upon anyone – not even the Red Dragon himself.’
‘You say that? After he blinded Atara with his own hands? After what he did to you?’
‘I have another ear,’ Master Juwain told him, tapping his large, knotty finger against the side of his head. ‘And if I could, I’d wish to hear no talk of revenge.’
‘And that,’ Maram said, ‘is why you’re a master of the Brotherhood and I am, ah, what I am. Evil deserves evil, I say. Evil should be opposed by any means.’
‘By any means virtuous.’
‘But surely virtue is to be seen in the end to be accomplished. And what could be a greater good than the end of Morjin?’
‘The Red Dragon, I’m afraid, would agree with the first part of your argument. And that is why, Brother Maram, I must tell you that –’
‘Please, sir, call me Maram.’
‘All right,’ Master Juwain said with a troubled smile. Then he looked deep into Maram’s eyes and said, ‘To use evil, even in the battle against evil, is to become utterly consumed by it.’
I held my sword pointing north toward the castle’s great hall where the Lightstone was kept. Alkaladur’s silver gelstei flared white in resonance with the greater gold gelstei of which the cup was wrought. Its bright light drove back the hate that threatened to annihilate me whenever I thought of Morjin and how he had torn out the eyes of the woman I loved.
‘It is … not evil to guard the Lightstone for the Maitreya,’ I forced out, speaking the ancient name for the Shining One. In Ardik, Maitreya meant Lord of Light. ‘Can we not agree that this is our best means of fighting Morjin?’
I sheathed my sword and took a sip of tea. It was indeed bitter, but it cleared my head and cooled the wrath poisoning my heart.
‘Very well,’ Master Juwain said, ‘but I’m afraid we’ve little time for making alliances or battles. We must find the Maitreya before Morjin does. We must seek him out in whatever land has given him birth.’
At this, Maram took another sip of tea and smiled to try to hide the dread building inside him. ‘Ah, sir, it almost sounds as if you’re proposing another quest to find this Maitreya. Please tell me that you’re thinking of no such thing?’
‘A moment ago,’ Master Juwain reminded him, ‘you were ready to oppose Morjin in any way you could.’
‘I? I? No, no – you misunderstand me,’ Maram said. ‘I have already done my part in fighting Morjin. More than my part. We all have.’
I said nothing as I took a long sip of tea and gazed into Maram’s eyes.
‘Don’t look at me that way, Val!’ he said. He drained his cup in a sudden gulp, and banged it down upon the table. Then he stood up and began pacing about the room. ‘I don’t have your courage and devotion to truth. Ah, your faith in these great dreams of yours. I am just a man. And a rather delicate one at that. I’ve been bludgeoned by one of Morjin’s assassins, and nearly eaten by bears. And in the Vardaloon, I was eaten by every mosquito, leech and verminous thing in that accursed forest. I’ve been frozen, burnt, starved and nearly drained of blood. And the Stonefaces, ah, I don’t even want to speak of them! I’ve been shot with arrows …’
Here he paused to rub his fat rump, each half of which had been transfixed by a feathered shaft during the siege of Khaisham. To this day, he claimed, it pained him to sit on top of a horse – or on chairs.
‘Isn’t all this enough?’ he asked us. ‘No, no, my friends, if there’s another quest to be made, let someone else make it.’
I felt the ache in my side where one of Morjin’s assassins had run me through with a sword. In my veins stilled burned, and always would burn, the kirax poison that he had fired into me with an evil arrow shot out of the darkness of the woods. ‘We’ve all suffered, Maram,’ I said softly. ‘No one should ask that you suffer more.’
‘Ah, but you ask when you speak to me like that. When you look at me with those damn Valari eyes of yours.’
‘My apologies,’ I said, glancing down at the floor.
‘I just want to drink a little beer and write a few poems for Behira – what’s wrong with that?’
In truth, Maram liked to consume much more than a ‘little’ beer. Ever since we had returned to Mesh with the Lightstone, he had devoted his considerable passions toward savoring life. My brother, Asaru, often accused him of sloth, but he really worked very hard in his pursuit of pleasure, filling up each day of the week. Sunday nights, for instance, were for drinking, and sacred Oneday brought more beer and brandy. Moonday was equally holy, and Arday was needed to recover from so much holiness. Then came Eaday, which he reserved for walks in the mountains and rides through the forest – usually with his betrothed, Behira, or another beautiful young woman – so that he could worship the glories of the earth. Valday nights were for singing and stargazing in similar company, while on Asturday he wrote love poems, and on Sunday he rested yet again in preparation for the evening’s drinkfest.
I smiled at Maram’s peccadilloes, and so did Master Juwain, with curiosity as much as concern. Then he asked Maram, ‘And what of Behira, then? Have you set a date for the wedding?’
‘Ah, I’ve set at least three dates.’
He explained that he had kept postponing the wedding, offering one excuse or another. Most recently, he had argued that he and Behira should have news of the conclave before deciding anything so private and permanent as a wedding.
‘I did not think Lord Harsha,’ Master Juwain said, ‘could be put off so easily in matters concerning his daughter’s happiness.’
‘Did I say there was anything easy about all this? You should have seen Lord Harsha’s face when I told him I couldn’t possibly make vows in Ashte because the auguries were unfavorable.’
Master Juwain pushed back his chair, stood and went over to Maram. He rested his hand on his arm and asked, ‘What’s wrong? I thought you loved Behira?’
‘Ah, I do love her – I’m certain I do. More than I’ve ever loved any woman. In fact, I’m nearly certain that she’s the one I’ve been seeking all my life. It’s just that …’
His voice trailed off as he reached into a deep pocket of his tunic and removed a red crystal nearly a foot in length. It was six-sided and pointed at either end; a large crack ran down its center, and a webwork of smaller ones radiated out from it so that no part of the crystal remained untouched. With this great gelstei, Maram had wounded the dragon, Angraboda, in the deeps of Argattha. But the great blast of fire had broken the crystal so that it would unleash fire no more.
‘My poor firestone,’ he lamented, squeezing the red crystal. ‘I had hoped to find, in the Cup of Heaven, the secret of how it might be mended or forged anew. But I’ve failed.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t understand,’ Master Juwain said.
Maram gazed at the crystal and said, ‘As with this firestone, so with my heart. There’s a crack there, you see. Some fundamental flaw in my being. Every time I look at Behira, love flows into me like fire. But I can’t quite hold it. I had hoped to find in the Lightstone a way that I could. The way to make love last: that’s the secret of the universe.’
Maram, I thought, was no different to anyone else. Everyone who stood before the Lightstone sought the realization of his deepest desire. But no one, it seemed, knew how to unlock the secrets of this blessed, golden vessel.
‘I see, I see,’ Master Juwain said. Then he reached into the pocket of his tunic. He brought out an emerald crystal, much smaller than Maram’s, and stood looking at it. He said, ‘Don’t give up hope just yet.’
‘Why, do you propose to heal my heart with that?’
Master Juwain studied the green gelstei that he had gained on our quest. With it, he had healed Atara of a mortal wound, as he had more minor ones torn into Maram’s and my flesh. But too often the gelstei failed him. I knew that he dreamed the Lightstone might infinitely magnify the power of his healing crystal.
‘I wish I could,’ Master Juwain told Maram. ‘But you see, I’ve little more knowledge of how the Lightstone might be used than you do.’
‘Then your journey was unsuccessful?’
‘No, I wouldn’t quite say that. In fact, I discovered several things of great interest in Nar.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘Well, to begin with, it’s becoming ever clearer that only the Maitreya will show what the Lightstone is really for.’
Here he turned toward me, and his large eyes filled with a soft, silver radiance. ‘And you, Val – what have you found in the Lightstone?’
‘More than I ever dreamed,’ I said. ‘But less than I hoped.’
Maram had said that love is the secret of the universe. But why did the One, in love, give us life only to take it away in the bitterness of death?
‘I have looked for the secret of life,’ I admitted.
‘And what have you found?’
‘That it’s a mystery no man will ever solve.’
‘Nothing else?’
I stood up and walked over to look out the window. Above Silvassu – above all the world – Telshar’s white diamond peak was gleaming in the light of the late sun.
‘There have been moments,’ I said at last. ‘Once or twice, while I stood looking at the Lightstone, meditating – these bright moments. When the gold of the cup turns clear as diamond. And inside it, there is … everything. All the stars in the universe. I can’t tell you how bright is their light. It fell upon me like the stroke of a shining sword that brought joy instead of death. I was alive as I’ve never been alive before, and every particle of my being seemed to blaze like the sun. And then, for a moment, the light, myself – there was no difference. It was all as one.’
As Maram pulled at his beard, Master Juwain listened quietly and waited for me to say more. Then he spoke with a strange gravity: ‘You should mark well the miracle of these moments. We all should.’
‘Why, sir? Others have experienced similar things. I’m no different to anyone else.’
‘Aren’t you?’
He stepped closer to me and studied the scar cut into my forehead. It was shaped like a lightning bolt, the result of a wound to my flesh during the violence of my birth.
‘It was you,’ he said, ‘who found the Lightstone in the darkness of Argattha when it was invisible to everyone else. As it had remained invisible for all of an age.’
‘Please, sir – we shouldn’t speak of this again.’
‘No, I’m afraid we must speak of it, before it’s too late. You see, Master Sebastian –’
‘He’s a great astrologer,’ I admitted. I hated interrupting Master Juwain, or anyone, but I had gone too far to stop. ‘His knowledge is very great, but a man’s fate can’t be set by the stars.’
‘No, perhaps not set, as a chisel’s mark in stone,’ Master Juwain said. ‘It is more like a jeweled tapestry. All that is, or ever will be, is part of it. And each golden thread, each diamond woven into it, reflects the light of all the others. There is only one pattern, one master pattern, as I’ve said a hundred times. As above, so below. The stars, from where we came, mark the place we will return to. And mark it in patterns within the one pattern resonant with the patterns of our lives. Your life, Val, has already been marked out from all others. Everyone has seen this, in who you are, in what you’ve done. But Master Sebastian has seen it in the stars.’
He motioned for Maram and me to follow him across the room to where a large desk stood facing the wall. Many old books were heaped on top of it. One was a genealogy of the noble Valari families; another was entitled, simply: The Lesser Gelstei. The largest book was Master Juwain’s prized copy of the Saganom Elu, bound in ancient leather. He had placed it, and other books, so that they weighted down the corners of a scroll of parchment. Inked onto its yellow-white surface was a great wheel of a circle, divided by lines like slices of a pie. Other lines formed squares within the circle, and there was a single, equal-sided triangle, too. Around the circle’s edge were written various arcane symbols which I took to represent other worlds or the greatest of the heavens’ constellations.
‘Before I left for Nar,’ Master Juwain said to me, ‘I asked Master Sebastian to work up this horoscope from the reported hour of your birth.’ Here he stabbed his finger at a cluster of symbols at the top of the circle. ‘Do you see how your sun is at the midheaven in the constellation of the Archer? This is the sign of a soul that streaks out like an arrow of light to touch the stars. At the midheaven also is Aos, and this is an indication of a great spiritual teacher. And there also, Niran, which portends a spiritual master or great king. Their conjunction is striking and very strong.’
As the afternoon deepened toward evening, and Maram bent over the desk with me, breathing in my ear, Master Juwain went on to point out other features of my horoscope: the grand trine formed by Elad, Tyra and my moon; my moon, itself, in the Crab Constellation, indicating deep and powerful passions for life that I kept hidden inside to protect myself and avoid hurting others; my Siraj in the castle of service in the sign of the Ram, which marked me out as a man who blazed new paths for others to follow. Directly across the circle from it was to be found my Shahar, planet of vision and transcendence. Its opposition with Siraj, according to Master Juwain, told of the great war that I waged inside myself – and with the world.
‘We see here the paradox of your life, Val. That you, who love others so deeply, have been forced to slay so many.’
The sword I wore at my side suddenly felt unbearably heavy. The silustria of its blade was so hard and smooth that blood would not cling to it or stain it. I wished the same were true of my soul.
‘And this conflict runs even deeper,’ Master Juwain continued. ‘It would be as if your soul is pulled in two directions, between the glories of the earth and the still light at the center of all things. In a sense, between life and death.’
As Master Juwain paused to take a deep breath, I felt my heart beating hard and painfully inside me. And then he said, ‘For one born beneath stars such as yours, it is necessary to die in order to be reborn – as the Silver Swan emerges with wings of light from the flames of its own funeral pyre. Such a one is rare, indeed. A master astrologer, and many men, might call him the Shining One.’
Sweat was now running down my sides in hot streams beneath my armor. I could scarcely breathe, so I pushed back from the desk and moved over to the window for some fresh air. I fairly drank in the wind pouring down from the mountains. Then I turned to Master Juwain and said, ‘What did you mean he might be called the Shining One?’
‘You see, your horoscope is certainly that of a great man, and almost that of a Maitreya.’
‘Almost? Then –’
Before I could say more, the faint fall of footsteps sounded in the hall outside the door, punctuated by the sound of wood striking stone. Master Juwain, who had a mind like the gears of a clock, smiled as if satisfied by the result of some secret calculation.
‘You see,’ he said by way of explanation, ‘I’ve asked for help in deciding this matter.’
There came a soft rapping at the door. Master Juwain crossed the room and opened it. Then he invited inside a small, old woman who stepped carefully as she tapped a wooden cane ahead of her.
‘Nona!’ I cried out. It was my grandmother, Ayasha Elahad. I rushed across the room to embrace her frail body. Then I placed her arm around mine, and led her over to one of the chairs at the tea table. ‘Where is Chaya? You shouldn’t go walking about by yourself.’
