Lord of Lies. David Zindell

might carry out into the hall. ‘Has it not been told in the ancient prophecies that the Maitreya will be known by just such miracles? What could be greater than the healing of the hatred in a man’s heart?’

      Not hating at all, I thought as I recalled the sword that I had put into Baltasar’s hand.

      Lord Raasharu’s strong voice called out to the hundreds in the hall who listened raptly: ‘Only a short while ago, we have had another prophecy, from the Galdan scryer: that Valashu would find the Maitreya in the darkest of places. What could be darker than finding this Lord of Light inside the dark cavern of one’s own heart?’

      He turned back to me, and bowed his head again, this time more deeply. ‘Lord Valashu – Lord of Light. You are he. You must be. The way the Lightstone flared when you called to it, so bright, almost impossible.’

      He looked up at the Lightstone shimmering on its stand and I heard him whisper, ‘I never knew, I never knew.’

      Awe colored the faces of many men and women turned toward me. I heard Lord Tanu’s wife, Dashira, call out, ‘Lord of Light!’ while three of the Guardians standing near the Lightstone on the dais above me spoke as one, saying, ‘Maitreya!’ Others took up this call, too, and through the hall rang shouts of, ‘Maitreya! Maitreya! Maitreya!’

      This single name, repeated again and again, was sweeter than honey and more intoxicating than whole barrels of brandy.

      ‘Lord Valashu, claim the Lightstone!’ Lord Raasharu said to me. Many loud voices, and Lord Raasharu’s the loudest of all, began urging me on toward what seemed my fate. They almost drowned out a much quieter voice whispering inside me. How could I be the Maitreya, I asked myself? I, who had trembled with murderous wrath only moments before? My father, his bright eyes fixed on me, seemed to be asking me this same question.

      And then Master Juwain smiled at me with the happiness of hope fulfilled even as Baltasar came forward and stood at the end of my table. He pulled me up from my chair and embraced me; he kissed my forehead and said, ‘My life is yours – thank you, friend.’

      ‘Thank you,’ I said to him. If not for his wild charge toward Salmelu, I might have charged instead. And my father would have had to order my death. ‘My life is yours, again. How can it be repaid?’

      He smiled and didn’t hesitate as he said, ‘Claim the Lightstone.’

      I smiled, too, as I slowly nodded my head. Then I clasped his hand in mine. To the acclaim of Lord Raasharu and Lord Tomavar – and many others – I turned and mounted the dais behind me. The Guardians in their gleaming suits of mail made two rows on either side of the Lightstone. I stepped straight toward the stand holding up the golden bowl. I felt Alkaladur, at my side, resonating with it. I felt inside for a like resonance of my heart, which it was said was the endowment of the Maitreya – and the Maitreya alone.

      All my life, I whispered to myself.

      All my life I had longed for one thing above all else. But it was the greatest of ironies that I, whose heart was so open to others, was forced by fate to stand apart from them. For if I did not, their lusts and passions would burn through me and annihilate me utterly. And so I had to climb through a stark and terrible inner landscape to the top of the highest mountain in the world. There the air was cold and thin and bitter. There I breathed the pain of being ever alone. All my life I had known that there must be a cure for the gift that afflicted me, if only I had the courage to find it.

      And now, as I stood upon the hard stone dais in my father’s hall, I gazed at a little bowl that seemed to hold within its golden hollows all the secrets of life. I knew that it might be used to touch into life the infinite seeds of brotherhood waiting to burst forth inside all men – and so to touch that infinite tree that shone with the light of the One. And then the pain of being would vanish in a deeper flame, and the promise of life would at last be fulfilled. And no man or woman would ever stand alone again.

      ‘Lord of Light!’ someone called out as if from far away. Another voice joined his, and then two, ten and a hundred more. In the rawness of their throats was an aching to come together as a great and beautiful force. ‘Lord of Light! Lord of Light! Lord of Light!’

      To want to see men and women standing tall as oaks, the sun rising warm upon their faces, whole, happy and unafraid; to see them healed of suffering in the light of that deep joy which pours itself out through their hearts and unites them in glory with all things; to want this for myself and all those I loved, and for everyone – was this so wrong?

      ‘Claim it, Valashu!’ someone else called to me. ‘Claim the Lightstone!’

      Five feet in front of me, on its white granite stand, the little cup of gold gelstei was waiting for me to lay my hands upon it. The thirty Guardians to either side of me were waiting with their eyes grown bright as stars; in the hall behind me, my father and friends and hundreds of others were gazing at me in silent expectation. Even the portraits of my ancestors along the cold stone walls seemed to be looking down at me and demanding that I fulfill my fate.

      About the Maitreya one thing is known, I suddenly remembered. That to himself, the Maitreya always is known.

      ‘I must be he,’ I whispered to myself. ‘I must be.’

      And then fear struck me to the core as my hands began to sweat and I remembered other words from the Saganom Elu: If a man comes forth in falseness as the Shining One concealing darkness in his heart, if he claims the Lightstone for his own, then he shall become a new Red Dragon, only mightier and more terrible.

      ‘So much evil in the world,’ I whispered. ‘So much pain.’

      At last, I stepped forward and placed my hands around the curve of the bowl. Its cool golden surface seemed instantly to sear my flesh. It was like trying to grasp the fiery substance of a star. The pain was so great I could hardly hold it. But beneath the pain, a deeper and more beautiful thing.

      I turned as I lifted the Lightstone high for all to see. And then I called out into the hall: ‘It is not yet determined who the Maitreya really is. There are tests still to be made. As far as I know, I am only the Lightstone’s Guardian, a Knight of the Swan.’

      So saying, I set the Lightstone back on its stand. I looked down at my hands to see if they had been charred black. But the flesh of my palms and fingers showed only its familiar ivory tones and remained untouched.

      ‘Lord of Light!’ someone below me cried out. ‘Lord of Light!’

      Sounds of disappointment and protest now rumbled through the hall. It came to me then that the more I denied that I was the Maitreya, the more that others might interpret this as humility and so be even more inclined to acclaim me as the Shining One.

      ‘Lord of Light! Lord of Light! Lord of Light!’

      I was keenly aware, however, that while I hadn’t claimed to be the Maitreya, I hadn’t denied it, either. It tormented me to remember that Morjin had struck a similar pose before his evil priests in Argattha.

      After that, my father announced that the feast had come to an end. The various knights, ladies and lords began standing up from their tables and exited the hall to repair to their chambers. The thirty Guardians remained at their post, the steel rings of their mail reflecting the Lightstone’s abiding radiance. Their bright, black eyes remained ever watchful, ever awake, ever aware – and now aware of me in a way that they hadn’t been before.

      So it was with Lansar Raasharu, who was one of last to say goodnight. He seemed not to want to leave my side. The wonder with which he now regarded me filled me with a gnawing disquiet.

      I returned to my family’s table, where I retrieved the box that Salmelu had set before me. I resolved to bury its contents deep within the earth. Morjin’s letter I picked up with fevered hands and tucked down inside my armor. I didn’t know how I would find the courage to open it.

      I stood for a long time staring up at the Lightstone as the words of Kasandra’s prophecy burned themselves deeper and deeper into my mind: