Lord of Lies. David Zindell

torments that I have visited upon you? Lord Valashu, Knight Swan, Guardian of the Lightstone – can you deny that it is I who has made you?

       And so you are in my debt. And doubly and triply so since you have wounded me and taken the Cup of Heaven. And yet, upon you I wish no vengeance. I must believe that you did what you did out of error and not malice. You are young and full of fanciful dreams, as I was once. Inside you there blazes a truly beautiful light. Who has seen this as I have, Valashu? Open your eyes, and you might see it yourself.

       The debt must be repaid. One day, I hope, you will swear allegiance to me. You will serve me – in life or in death. The Lightstone, however, must be returned immediately. If it is, I shall reward you with a million-weight of gold and a kingdom of your own to rule. If it is not, I shall so reward any man who delivers the Lightstone into my hands. And the kingdom of Mesh shall be taken away from you, and you and your family destroyed. My ally, King Angand of Sunguru, stands ready to march by my side that the crime you have committed might be redressed. And the kings of Uskudar, Karabuk, Hesperu and Galda, who owe me allegiance, will march as well. And King Ulanu of Yarkona, whose acquaintance you have already made. Upon this sacred crusade, I pledge my kingdom, my honor and my life.

       Faithfully, Morjin, King of Sakai and Lord of Ea

       P.S. I have returned with this letter the personal belongings of Atara Ars Narmada. I can only hope that you, or she, might find some use for them. Of course, Atara might find it more useful if she were given new eyes with which to behold you. Return the Lightstone to me, and I shall make it so. It would give me great pleasure.

       P.P.S. One day, if you live long enough, you will use the valarda to strike death into another – as you tried to strike it into me. And on that day, I shall be there by your side, smiling upon you as I would my own son.

      My parents’ room was deathly quiet as I finished reading. My family and friends were all staring at me. Without a word, I crushed the pages of the letter inside my fist. I stood up and walked over to the far fireplace. There I cast the letter into the flames. It took only a moment for these writhing orange tendrils to begin blackening the white paper and consuming the letter. As I watched the pages curl into char, I thought of all the millions of books that Count Ulanu had burned at Khaisham. But Morjin’s words, I knew, would not be lost, for they were now burned into my brain.

      ‘The gloves, too, Valashu!’ Master Juwain called to me. ‘Cast them into the fire!’

      I did as he advised, and then walked back to the carpet to rejoin those who would give me counsel.

      ‘Lies, such terrible lies,’ Master Juwain said.

      ‘Yes – and even more terrible truths,’ I said. ‘But which is which?’

      ‘How could you hope to sort the truth from the lies of the Lord of Lies?’

      ‘But I must. I must learn to. Everything depends upon it.’

      Asaru refilled my glass and pressed it into my hand. He said, ‘Morjin feeds you poisoned meat and you still seek to take sustenance from it? You did the right thing burning it. Now forget about the letter.’

      ‘How can I? He said –’

      ‘He said many evil things. Predators and prey, indeed.’ He nodded at our father, and continued, ‘We Valari are taught to protect the weak, not eat them.’

      I smiled at this, and so did everyone else. It was one of the rare moments when my serious brother made a joke. But too much had happened that night for us to sustain a mood of levity.

      ‘It may be,’ my father told me, ‘that the real purpose in Morjin’s writing this letter was to confuse you.’

      ‘Then it seems he has succeeded.’

      My grandmother, who knew me very well, turned her cataract-clouded eyes toward me and said, ‘You are not as confused as he.’

      ‘Thank you for saying that, Nona. If only it were true.’

      ‘It is true!’ she said. Her back stiffened as she sat up very straight. I knew that if Morjin had managed to invade this very room, she would have thrown her frail, old body upon him to defend me. ‘This Red Dragon speaks of love and power. Well, he may know everything about the love of power. But he’ll never understand anything about the power of love.’

      Her smile as she nodded at me warmed my heart.

      ‘There’s only one love that Morjin could be capable of,’ my mother added, looking at me. ‘And that is that he loves to hate. And how he hates you, my son!’

      ‘Even as I hate him.’

      ‘And such passion has always been your greatest vulnerability,’ she went on. Her soft, graceful face fell heavy with concern. ‘You’ve always loved others too ardently – and so you hate Morjin too fiercely. But your hatred for each other binds you together more surely than marriage vows.’

      My mother’s soft, dark eyes melted into mine and then she said an astonishing thing: ‘Morjin uses hate to try to compel your love, Valashu. He hates all things but himself most of all. He wishes that you were the Maitreya so that you might heal him of this terrible hate.’

      My confusion grew only deeper and murkier, like a mining pit filled with sediments and sludge. ‘But he has said that I cannot be the Maitreya!’

      ‘Yes, but this must be only another of his lies.’

      Master Juwain nodded his head as he sighed out: ‘There’s a certain logic to his letter. It indicates that he believes becoming the Maitreya is open to superior beings who wield the Lightstone with power. Certainly he fears Val wielding it this way. It seems that he has written his whole letter toward the end of convincing Val that he cannot be the Maitreya.’

      I touched Master Juwain’s arm and said, ‘But what if I cannot?’

      ‘No, Val, you mustn’t believe this. I’m afraid that the Lord of Lies is only trying to discourage you from your fate.’

      As the candles burned lower, we talked far into the night. Each of us had our own fears and dreams, and so we each felt drawn by different conclusions as to what my fate might truly be. Asaru, I thought, was proud merely to see me become a lord at such a young age and would have been happy if my title remained only Guardian of the Lightstone. My father looked at me as if to ask whether I was one of those rare men who made their own fate. Nona, her voice reaching out like a gentle hand to shake me awake, asked me the most poignant of questions: ‘If you weren’t born to be the Maitreya, who were you born to be?’

      It was Maram who made the keenest comment about Morjin and his letter. Although not as deep as my father, he was perhaps more cunning. And it seemed that his two slow glasses of brandy had done little to cloud his wits.

      ‘Ah, Val, my friend,’ he said to me as he lay his arm around my shoulders. The heavy bouquet of brandy fell over my face. ‘What if Morjin is playing a deep game? The “Lord of Lies”, he’s called – and so everyone expects him to manipulate others with lies. But what if, this one time, he’s telling you the truth?’

      ‘Do you think he is?’

      ‘Do I think he is? Does it matter what I think? Ah, well, we’re best friends, so I suppose it does. All right, then, what I think is that Morjin could use the truth as readily as a lie to poison your mind. Do you see what I mean? The truth denied acts as a lie.’

      ‘Go on,’ I said, looking at him.

      ‘All right – Morjin has said that you cannot be the Maitreya. Perhaps he knows that you could never accept such a truth, even if it is the truth, and so you’d think it must be a lie. And so you’d be tempted to believe just the opposite. Therefore, isn’t it possible that Morjin is trying to lead you into falsely believing that you’re the Maitreya?’

      ‘But why would he do that?’