Sky Trillium. Julian May

far upstream?’

      ‘Only about three leagues. And the boat is sturdy enough. I will row with the central oars while you scull with the stern sweep, and together we will breast the current and cross the river. Once on the other side, there will be slack water and the going will be much easier.’

      Ralabun grinned. ‘I was not aware that you were such an experienced waterman.’

      ‘I am experienced in more things than you know,’ the boy said shortly. ‘Let us be going.’

      They climbed aboard and cast off. Tolivar rowed with all his strength, which truly was not much. But Ralabun, while elderly, had muscular arms after years of heavy work in the stables, and so the boat moved steadily across the broad river. They dodged floating debris, including whole trees uprooted from the Black-mire upstream. Once there was even a log with a huge vicious raffin aboard, that sailed along as nonchalantly as a Trovista tradeboat. The beast roared as it passed less than three arm-lengths away, but it made no move to leave its safe perch and attack them.

      Along the opposite shore from Citadel Knoll, which was mucky and uninhabited, the current was much less strong, just as the Prince had predicted. He wearily put up his oars and left the propelling of the boat to Ralabun. They made good headway upstream, and were able to converse above the noise of the rushing water.

      Tolivar said, ‘There is a very shallow tributary creek that joins the river on the north shore, in the braided section just above Market Pool. That is where we are going.’

      Ralabun nodded. ‘I know what you’re talking about: a nameless waterway clogged with fodderfern and lanceweed. But it is not navigable – ‘

      ‘It is, if one fares carefully. I have travelled the creek often during the Dry Time, in secret, disguising myself as a common wharfboy.’

      Ralabun gave a disapproving grunt. ‘That was most imprudent, Hiddenheart! Even so close to Citadel Knoll, the Mazy Mire is not a safe place for a lone human lad. If you had only asked, I would have been glad to take you swamp-romping – ‘

      ‘I was in no danger.’ The Prince spoke haughtily. ‘And my business in the mire was both serious and personal. It had nothing to do with the sort of idle funseeking we are accustomed to pursue together.’

      ‘Hmph. What great mystery does this creek conceal, then?’

      ‘It’s my business,’ Tolivar snapped.

      This time the Nyssomu’s feelings were clearly hurt. ‘Well, I humbly beg Your Worship’s pardon for prying!’

      The boy’s voice softened. ‘Do not be offended, Ralabun. Even the dearest companions must have some things private from one another. I was forced to ask your help in travelling to my secret place tonight because of the strength of the river. There was no other soul I could trust.’

      ‘And gladly will I accompany you! But I confess that I am sad that you will not confide in me. You know I would never tell any secret of yours to a living soul.’

      Tolivar hesitated. He had not intended to disclose the nature of the treasure to his friend. But he was strongly tempted now to have at least one other person know about the wondrous things he owned. And who better than Ralabun? Tolivar said: ‘Do you swear that you will not tell the King or the Queen about my secret? Nor even the Archimage Haramis herself, if she should command it?’

      ‘I swear upon the Three Moons and the Flower!’ said Ralabun stoutly. ‘Whatever privity you entrust to me I will guard faithfully until the Lords of the Air carry me safely beyond.’

      The Prince nodded sombrely. ‘Very well then. You shall see my great treasure when I fetch it tonight from its hiding place in the mire. But if you reveal what it is to others, you may forfeit not only your own life, but also my own.’

      Ralabun’s big round eyes gleamed in the dimness as he made the sign of the Black Trillium in the air with one hand. ‘What is this marvellous thing that we seek, Hiddenheart?’

      ‘Something I must show you, rather than speak of,’ said the Prince. And he would say no more, for all the Nyssomu’s coaxing.

      After they had travelled on for another hour the drizzle ceased and a brisk wind began to blow, sending dark clouds speeding across a small patch of starry sky. On the opposite bank the torch-lamps of Ruwenda Market at the westernmost end of Citadel Knoll flickered dim, for the Mutar was now over a league wide. Then they entered the braided section of the river, where there were many wooded islands during the Dry Time. Most of these were submerged now, with the lofty gonda and kala trees that grew on them rising out of swirling black water. It would have been easy to lose the way, and several times the Prince had to correct Ralabun’s navigation. Unfortunately, the mirecraft of the old stablemaster was not nearly so expert as he pretended.

      ‘Here is the creek,’ Tolivar said at last.

      ‘Arc you sure?’ Ralabun looked doubtful. ‘It seems to me that we must go on further – ‘

      ‘No. It is here. I am quite certain. Turn in.’

      Grumbling, the Nyssomu bent to his oar. ‘The jungle round about here is already flooded and full of drifting debris. There’s no sign at all of a channel. I really think –’

      ‘Be silent!’ The Prince took up a stance in the bow. The few stars gave barely enough light to see by. The water soon became very shallow, with dense thickets of flag-reeds, lanceweed, and redfern between the towering trees. In the respite from the downpour, the wild creatures of the Mazy Mire gave voice. Insects chirped, clicked, buzzed, and made musical chiming sounds. Pelriks hooted, night-carolers warbled, karuwoks splashed and hissed, and a distant gulbard uttered its throaty hunting cry.

      When Ralabun could no longer use the sculling oar because of the shallowing water and clogging driftwood, he cried out, ‘This can’t be right, Hiddenheart!’

      The boy controlled his exasperation with some effort. ‘I will guide us while you pole the boat along. Go between those two great wilunda trees. I know the way.’

      Ralabun grudgingly obeyed, and even though the channel at times seemed hopelessly blocked with brush and hanging vines, a lead of open water barely as wide as the boat stayed always ahead of them. The going was very slow, but after another hour they reached a small area of high ground. Thorn-ferns, weeping wydels, and towering kalas grew about its rocky perimeter. Tolivar pointed out a landing spot and Ralabun brought the boat in to shore.

      ‘This is it?’ he murmured in surprise. ‘I could have sworn we were lost.’

      The Prince leapt onto a bank covered with rain-beaten sawgrass and tied the bow-line to a snag. Then he took up the lantern, opened its shutter, and beckoned for the Nyssomu to accompany him along a nearly invisible path that twisted through outcropping rocks and dripping vegetation. They came to a clearing, where there was a small hut made of hewn poles and bundled grass, roofed with heavy fodderfern.

      ‘I built it,’ the Prince said with pride. ‘It’s where I come to study magic’

      Ralabun’s wide mouth dropped open in amazement, displaying stubby yellow fangs. ‘Magic? A lad such as you? By the Triune – you are well named Hiddenheart!’

      Tolivar unfastened the simple wicker door and gave an ironic bow. ‘Please enter my wizard’s workshop.’

      Inside it was completely dry. The Prince lit a three-candle reflector lamp standing on a makeshift table. The hut had few other furnishings aside from a stool, a carboy of drinking water, and a set of hanging shelves that held a few jars and firkins of preserved food. Certainly there were no instruments, books, or any of the other occult appurtenances one might expect in a sorcerer’s lair.

      Tolivar dropped to his knees, brushed aside the cut ferns and rushes that covered the dirt floor, and began to pry up a large, thin slab of stone. In the cavity beneath it lay two bags of coarse woollen cloth – one small and the other larger. Tolivar placed both on the table.

      ‘These are the precious things we have come for,’ he