Lord of Lies. David Zindell

Juwain hurried to her side and placed his rough old fingers against her throat to feel for a pulse.

      ‘Ah, too bad,’ Maram gasped out. He held his hands over his own belly as if to protect this massive, food-filled outswelling – or to keep from vomiting. ‘Ah, I’d thought we were through with this kind of thing, too bad, too bad.’

      My heart throbbed inside me as I gripped my sword and cast my eyes about the room’s sparse furnishings, looking for any sign of the men who had worked such an evil deed.

      ‘These poor women!’ Maram said. ‘Ah, but what kind of scryers could they have been if they let themselves be murdered in their sleep?’

      ‘They’re not all murdered,’ Master Juwain said, touching Kasandra’s withered face. ‘Not yet. This one is still alive.’

      I knew that she was. I could feel her faint breathing as a whisper deep inside my throat.

      ‘Can you help her, sir?’

      Master Juwain gently prodded the wound to her belly. Someone, like a ravening wolf, had ripped out most of its contents, which lay strewn upon the blankets beneath her like bloody white snakes. ‘Help her live through this, Val?’

      ‘No, help her live … a while longer. I must speak with her.’

      Master Juwain nodded his head grimly and said, ‘I’ll try.’

      He wiped his hands on the hem of Kasandra’s robes. From his pocket, he removed the green gelstei crystal that looked so much like a long and bright emerald. With its magic, he had once healed Atara of a mortal arrow wound to her lungs. But he had never been able to mend such terrible mutilations as the one that would soon kill Kasandra.

      While Master Juwain positioned the varistei over Kasandra’s heart, I knelt by the other side of the bed and took Kasandra’s hand in mine. Her skin was as soft as fine leather and still warm.

      ‘Maram!’ I called out softly. ‘Guard the door! Whoever did this might return.’

      With a grumble, Maram drew his sword and positioned himself by the door. But he turned his gaze toward the crystal in Master Juwain’s skilled hands. So he must have perceived the clean light that streamed out of the crystal and fell upon Kasandra’s chest like a shower of tiny, shimmering emeralds.

      ‘Ah,’ Maram said. ‘Ah, poor, poor woman.’

      A terrible shiver tore through Kasandra’s body, and she coughed, once, as her breath rattled in her throat. A faint light filled her eyes. She had no strength to turn her head, nor even to cry out against the agony that I had called her back from the door of death to suffer. But I knew that she could see me, even so. She had been looking for me to come to her rooms, watching and waiting.

      ‘Valashu Elahad,’ she gasped out.

      I leaned closer to her and asked, ‘Who did this to you?’

      ‘The one … called Salmelu.’

      ‘But why? You said that a ghul would undo my dreams. Who is this ghul? Did Salmelu kill you to keep you from telling me?’

      ‘Because … he is … he killed my sisters and …’

      Her voice died off into a burning exhalation as her frail old body shuddered with another wave of anguish. And Master Juwain said to me, ‘Too much, Val. For mercy’s sake, ask her one question at a time!’

      I swallowed hard against the anguish in my throat. I asked, ‘Who is this ghul, then?’

      ‘His name … I don’t know,’ Kasandra said. ‘His face, though, is as noble as yours.’

      ‘But what about the last part of your prophecy? You said that a man with no face would show me my own. Who is this man?’

      ‘Who is anyone?’

      ‘Does he have a name?’

      ‘He is no man … I know …’

      Although her voice died off into nothingness, it seemed that she was trying to scream something at me. I asked, ‘Will this man show me the face of the Maitreya?’

      ‘No, the slave girl will show you the Maitreya.’

      ‘What slave girl? What is her name?’

      ‘Estrella.’

      This strange name seemed to hang in the air like a star in the midst of blackness. I gripped Kasandra’s hand in mine as tightly as I dared. And then I asked her, ‘But am I the Maitreya?’

      Kasandra’s lips did not move, nor did breath warm her lips. I knew that she was ready to walk through the door to that lightless land even the bravest of warriors feared to tread. I gripped the hilt of my sword in my right hand. And then Kasandra drew in a long breath as if gathering the last of her strength. And she gasped out, ‘You are …’

      These words, too, seemed to hang in the air. You are, I thought. I am. I looked down at Kasandra to ask her to finish her sentence, if indeed she already hadn’t. But the light in her tormented eyes suddenly died, and she would speak no more, ever again. Where, I wondered, did the light go when the light went out?

      Master Juwain shook his head at me, and put away his green crystal. He reached out and closed Kasandra’s eyes.

      ‘Val,’ he said, ‘there’s nothing –’

      ‘No,’ I said softly. ‘No, no, no.’

      Because Kasandra was pulling me down into death with her, I let go her hand. I retreated inside the walls of the castle of aloneness that had protected me for so long. I stood away from the bed, and held out my sword. Its dark silver flashed with a sudden light.

      He killed my sisters, Kasandra had said to me. His face is as noble as your own. He is no man …

      On the floor beneath me were the bloody bootprints of a man, or men. The pattern of these red defilements seemed burned into the stone.

      I know that you keep the Cup of Heaven locked and guarded in your castle as in ancient times, Morjin had written me. It is a beautiful thing, is it not? The most beautiful in all the world.

      My sword flared again, this time more brightly. I held it pointing down toward the east in the direction of the great hall where the Guardians stood protecting the Lightstone. Alkaladur blazed with a wild radiance that burned deep into my eyes.

      ‘Master Juwain!’ I cried out. ‘Go back to my father’s room! Ask the King – Asaru, too, my brothers – to come to the great hall!’

      ‘Val, what is it?’ Master Juwain asked me.

      But I was already running for the door. I paused there only a moment to call out to Maram, ‘Go to the Guardians’ barracks! Rouse Baltasar! Tell him that a ghul has been sent to steal the Lightstone!’

      I had no breath to say more. I sprinted out into the hallway. Our noise of broken doors and shouts must have roused this floor’s guests. Two of them – old Lord Garvar’s widow and a minstrel from Thalu – had opened their doors halfway to see if the castle might be under attack. I told them to lock themselves inside their rooms. And then, sword in hand, I ran past them toward the stairwell.

      I fairly bounced down the twisting stairs like a suddenly released stone. It was a miracle that I negotiated the worn granite slabs without stumbling and breaking my neck. Only seconds, it seemed, sufficed for me to reach the archway into the first floor’s hallway. I ran down this deserted corridor as quickly as I could. At the kitchens, I turned right, and sprinted down the shorter corridor connecting the keep to the great hall. Its doors were open, and so I had no trouble passing inside.

      There, in this vast, dim space still smelling of beer and roasted meat, I saw an astonishing thing: the thirty Guardians lay in various positions about the dais at the front of the room. Their faces were peaceful, and they all appeared to be sleeping. The Lightstone