Lord of Lies. David Zindell

him as a challenge?’

      Lord Harsha, who was steady and true of mind, was not especially quick or clever. He stuck to his main point, saying, ‘Then the sooner you are wed, the better. Today is the sixth of Soldru. The sixth of Marud will not be too soon for the wedding. One month, Sar Maram.’

      The look in Maram’s eyes just then was that of an animal caught in a trap. He pulled at the collar of his red tunic as if struggling to breathe, then gasped out, ‘One month! But Lord Harsha, with the news I’ve just had and all my duties, that is far too little –’

      ‘What duties? Trying to outdrink any man in Mesh? And what news are you speaking of?’

      Maram’s eyes fell upon me and brightened as if seeing a way out of such sudden – and final – matrimony. He said, ‘Why, the news about Val. Master Juwain believes that he is likely the Maitreya.’

      Lord Harsha had a great respect for authority, and great regard for the Brotherhood and Master Juwain. He listened quietly as Master Juwain recounted the evidence cited earlier in the Adami tower. Master Juwain admitted that his hope for me was not yet proven beyond doubt, and he asked Lord Harsha not to speak of my horoscope to anyone. Like a warrior receiving battle orders from his king, Lord Harsha agreed to this. Then he nodded his hoary head toward me, saying, ‘It’s always been clear that there is something remarkable about Val.’

      ‘Yes, there is,’ Maram said, laying his hand on my shoulder. ‘And that is why, my lord, we should not be too quick to set a date. You see, I’ve allegiance to Val, and who knows where fate might take us if he truly is the Maitreya?’

      In his relief in possibly postponing his wedding yet again, and in his pride for me, his big voice boomed out into the hall a little too loudly. It drew the attention of two off-duty Guardians: my friends, Sunjay Naviru and Baltasar Raasharu. They smiled and walked toward us, followed by a tall, dignified man whose long face and white teeth reminded me of a warhorse. This was Lord Lansar Raasharu, Baltasar’s father – and my father’s trusted seneschal. I knew of no warrior braver in battle or more loyal to my family than he. Although the deepest of passions sometimes gloomed his heart, he had resolved to carry himself at all times as if his essentially melancholic nature would never master him.

      ‘Lord Raasharu!’ I said as he came up to me. ‘Sunjay! Baltasar!’

      Lansar Raasharu bowed his head to me, but Sunjay and Baltasar took turns in embracing me. Sunjay was bright of manner and expression, like a shooting star; from his well-formed mouth poured forth a steady stream of friendly words and smiles. Baltasar was a more difficult man. His lively, black eyes spoke of intelligence and restlessness of the soul; his ruddy cheeks gave evidence of his fiery blood. He was quick to take insult and even quicker to forgive – as quick as he was to love and be loved. All my life, it seemed, he had been like a seventh brother to me. He had all of Asaru’s grace and Karshur’s strength of purpose; while his quicksilver laughter reminded me of Jonathay, his pride burned hotter than did even Yarashan’s.

      After Maram had blurted out the topic of conversation, Baltasar flashed a bright smile at me and said, ‘It was hard enough to get used to calling you “Lord Valashu” – and now it seems you’re to be called “Lord of Light” as well?’

      ‘Please,’ I told him, ‘it will be enough if you call me “friend”.’

      Baltasar’s hand darted out to clasp mine. For a moment, our eyes locked together, and in the light of recognition that passed between us, I relived the Battle of Red Mountain against Waas. On that broken and bloody field, Baltasar had recklessly attacked three knights trying to impale me with their lances – and had taken a grievous wound to his neck in driving them off. His valor had saved my life. After the battle, my father had honored him with the double-diamond ring of a full knight. And his father, the noble Lord Raasharu, had looked upon him as if Baltasar was the great joy of his life. Even as he looked upon him now.

      ‘All right, friend,’ Baltasar said to me in the warm glow of his father’s countenance. ‘But can it really be true that you’re this Maitreya that everyone is talking about?’

      His hand gripped mine more tightly as if trying to squeeze the answer to this question out of me. I squeezed back, not in affirmation, but only to keep him from breaking my finger bones.

      ‘It’s said,’ Baltasar continued, gazing at me, ‘that the Maitreya will be a bringer of peace. But how can there ever be peace in this world?’

      ‘There must be peace,’ I told him. ‘Godavanni the Glorious –’

      ‘Godavanni was High King in an age when people thought that war had ended forever. It’s said that he never lifted his sword against any man. But in the end, Morjin murdered him, and war began again.’

      As Baltasar formed the sounds of the Red Dragon’s name, he let go of my hand to touch the gem he wore over his heart. Dangling from a steel chain around his neck was a small stone, blood-red in color like a carnelian. It was called a warder, and it bore the power to deflect poisonous thoughts or curses directed at its wearer. It also rendered one invisible to scryers and mindspeakers; most especially, it was proof against the illusions that the Lord of Lies sent to madden his enemies. As one of the lesser gelstei, it was both powerful and rare, but even so, all of the Guardians wore one.

      ‘If war can begin,’ I told Baltasar, ‘it can end.’

      ‘Never,’ he said. ‘Never so long as Morjin is left undefeated – all his evil, all his lies.’

      ‘But evil can’t be vanquished with a sword, Baltasar.’

      ‘You say that, who have vanquished so many with your sword?’

      My hand fell down upon my sword’s hilt, with its diamond pommel and swan-carved hilt of black jade. I swallowed against the pain in my throat as I said, ‘Darkness can’t be defeated in battle but only by shining a bright enough light.’

      ‘Are these the words of the Lord of Light, then?’

      They were, in fact, words that Master Juwain had spoken to me on the night when I had vowed to recover the Lightstone. Now he stood near me beaming his approval that I had taken to heart the deepest of his lessons. Maram, Behira, Lord Harsha and Lord Raasharu – and others – pressed in close to hear what we might say next.

      ‘You should know, Val,’ Baltasar confided to me, ‘that many are saying the Maitreya would be a great warlord. Like Aramesh. That he would unite the Valari and lead us to victory over the Red Dragon. Then this Age of Light of which you dream might begin.’

      Red flames seemed to dance in his eyes as he glanced at the knights and warriors gathered around us. I remembered the words from the Trian Prophecies: ‘He shall be the greatest warrior in the world.’

      I said to him, ‘You love war too much, Baltasar.’

      ‘As I love life itself, dear friend. What else calls to life so deeply as the duty to surrender it in protecting family and friends?’

      I might have agreed with him – with the qualification that the Valari were meant to be warriors of the spirit only. But just then, to the sound of trumpets announcing the beginning of the feast, my father, mother and brothers entered the hall from its western portal.

      Lord Harsha cried out, ‘The King!’ as hundreds of people turned to watch Shavashar Elahad make his way toward the front of the room where my family’s table was set. My father was a tall man whose black tunic, showing the swan and stars of our house, draped in clean lines about his large and powerful frame. Despite his years, he moved with a flowing grace that even a young knight might envy; his black eyes seemed filled with starlight and blazed with that fearlessness to which all Valari aspired. Many there were who could not bear the brilliance of his gaze and said that he was too hard on men: whether they be his enemies or those who had sworn him allegiance. But many more loved him precisely because he called them to find the best part of themselves and polish their souls until they sparkled like diamonds.

      As he and my