Angus Wells - The Kingdoms 03 (39 page)

 
          
“Might
we consult it now?” she inquired.

 
          
“If
that is your wish,” he agreed readily.

 
          
“It
is,” she confirmed, hoping she did not pale as she said it.

 
          
“Then
come.”

 
          
He
rose, pushing back his chair, and moved to draw back hers. Wynett wondered if
it was enthusiasm for what the oracle would show her that she read in his
movements, or nothing more than the desire to please that he evinced so
plausibly.

 
          
They
left the breakfast chamber, moving beneath the shelter of the balcony to
approach the door of blue wood. Eyrik thrust the portal open and bowed Wynett
inside. Once more the strange submarine light struck her, distorting distance
and space and time so that she seemed to walk slowly, swimmingly, across the
tiles to the silent circle of silver liquid, simultaneously intrigued and
frightened by what might be shown. Eyrik halted, seeming unaffected by the
shifting patterns that filled the chamber, and positioned
himself
close to her side as she stared down at the well.

 
          
As
before, the surface remained still, seeming to drink in her gaze, then somehow
shifted within its depths, an image forming, slow as swirling smoke, then
solidifying to become clear as though she looked through one of the palace’s
perfect windows.

 
          
She
saw a walled garden filled with summer flowers, their brightness interspersed
with herb beds,
familiar
benches set against gray
stone, and murmured, “The hospital garden in High Fort.”

 
          
“Then
mayhap he has reached the Lozins,” Eyrik said softly.

 
          
Wynett
saw the gate open and Kedryn enter. He wore a shirt of white linen and breeks
of soft, brown hide, his dirk belted at his waist, but no sword. His hair hung
loose about his tanned face and he pushed it carelessly back as he settled on a
bench, an expectant expression on his handsome features. Then he rose as the
gate opened again and Ashrivelle came into the garden. She wore a gown pink as
the petals of the roses that clung to the wall behind the bench, the bodice
tight and cut low. Her skin shone tan, like dark honey, and her blond hair was
long, bound with a simple fillet of pink silk. She smiled as she saw Kedryn and
he smiled back, extending a hand that she took and drew to her breast, her eyes
adoring as she looked up at him. He
came
a step closer
and put his arms about her waist as hers moved to encircle his neck. They
kissed, long and passionately. Wynett clenched her teeth, tom by roiling
emotions and unsure what face to show to Eyrik.

 
          
It
is not true, she told herself, I believe in the talisman and what I felt. I
believe in what I feel for Kedryn and what I know he feels for me.
It is not true!

 
          
She
felt Eyrik’s hand upon her arm, tight, and turned from the image to study his
face.

 
          
It
was grave, the gold-flecked eyes clouded, his lips pursed. “I am sorry,” he
said. “I would that you had not seen that.”

 
          
“I
do not believe it,” she answered.

 
          
“The
pool does not lie,” he responded; quietly, as though he regretted the
confirmation.

 
          
“No!”
She shook her head, her free hand rising to clutch the talisman, seeking its
reassurance. It sat warm against her palm, vibrating with its own strange life,
and she felt again that calm certitude that had descended the previous night.
“Kedryn knows that I live, and knowing that he would not dally with my sister
or any other woman.”

 
          
She
turned again toward the pool, seeing the image fade as Eyrik said, “Forgive my
bluntness, but he is a man and men have . . . appetites.”

 
          
“I
do not believe it,” she repeated. “Kedryn would not forsake me.”

 
          
Eyrik’s
expression was difficult to interpret because the changing patterns of the room
overlayed his features with bands of shifting light, as if she saw him through
water, nebulous and indefinite. His grip upon her arm grew firmer. Was that
through irritation at her rejection of the image? Or concern for her feelings?
He said, “Let us leave. I do not think we shall see more.”

 
          
Wynett
allowed him to draw her away, back across the blue tiles to the door, out to
the shelter of the balcony. He did not speak, nor release his hold, as he led
her to the chamber where they had eaten breakfast. Inside, the table had been
cleared and a decanter, two goblets, set upon the wooden surface. Eyrik brought
her to a chair and seated her, then filled glasses with dark red wine. He sat
and sipped; Wynett ignored hers. Finally, his face thoughtful, he murmured,
“You do not believe what you saw?”

 
          
“No.”
She shook her head, staring at him.

 
          
“Are
you so confident of his love?”

 
          
“Aye.”
She nodded, emphasizing the affirmative.

 
          
“Then
mayhap there is another explanation.”

 
          
He
toyed with his glass, turning the crystal between his powerful hands, a small
smile that defied interpretation curving the comers of his mouth as he at last
raised his face toward her.

 
          
“The
pool does not lie—it cannot—but the truth is not always what we perceive.”

 
          
He
paused as if lost in thought, seeking the words that would explain his meaning.
Wynett said, “That is a riddle I fail to comprehend.”

 
          
His
smile grew broader, apologetically,
then
faded to
become replaced by an expression of solemn gravity. He said, “It is usual to
think of your world, your life, in linear fashion: Kedryn loves you and you
were taken by the leviathan, therefore Kedryn will seek you because he
knows—thanks to the talisman he wears—that you live. He will rescue you and
bring you back to the Kingdoms, where you will rule together and live in happiness
thereafter. That is one truth.

 
          
“But
as you have seen, this place we now inhabit is not governed by the natural laws
appertaining to your life in the Kingdoms: the rules of linear progression do
not apply. Therefore it is possible the pool showed you an alternative truth.
Perhaps one in which the leviathan destroyed you, leaving Kedryn to find solace
with your sister.

 
          
“You
see, every event in life opens alternatives. Had Kedryn not been wounded when
first he entered the Beltrevan, he might not have met you. He might have
travelled to Andurel and fallen in love with Ashrivelle, perhaps become
bethrothed to her.

 
          
“Had
you not chosen to travel with him when he was blind you might not have fallen
in love, in which alternative you would not have been on the barge when the
leviathan attacked, and so not come to this place.

 
          
“Do
you understand, Wynett? It is as though life branches with each decision, each
event, all possibilities becoming possible, alternative selves treading
different paths, no one less real—less true—than another.”

 
          
He
paused, lifting his glass to drink as though the speech had rendered him
thirsty. His eyes studied her across the rim.

 
          
Wynett
frowned, puzzled. She followed the gist of his argument and saw that it did
nothing to confirm or refute her suspicions: it left her no
more
clear
as to his intentions than before. She said, “I understand what you
say, but it surely means the pool cannot be relied upon. I am here and that is
a fact, therefore I maintain that in the reality I inhabit Kedryn would not
dally with Ashrivelle.”

 
          
“I
admire your conviction,” Eyrik nodded, “and likely you are right, but this
place does not conform to your notions of reality, and the pool is a part of
this place.”

 
          
“Surely
we talk in circles,” she responded. “If that is true, then the pool does not
show what is true for me.”

 
          
“Assuming—and
I ask your forgiveness for what I am about to say, but assure you I have only
your welfare at heart—that you are correct in your assessment of Kedryn’s
devotion, then you are right. In a way, at least,” he answered. “But being a
creation of this place the pool may well show you the alternatives, mixing one
reality with another. Mayhap it is even possible that you yourself now cross
from one strand to another.”

 
          
“Then
still the pool is a meaningless oracle,” she said. “And I shall stand by my
belief.”

 
          
Eyrik
succeeded in bowing from a sitting position. “I have nothing but admiration for
you,” he applauded, “and a suggestion that may bring some small comfort. Let us
assume that what you saw is no more than a strand of possibility that does not
apply to the alternative you occupy, still the pool shows truth. Mayhap it is
for you to discern which strand connects to you, here.”

 
          
“How
may I do that?” she asked, puzzled.

 
          
“If
your heart does not tell you,” Eyrik said, shrugging, “then mayhap the talisman
can help you discern your particular truth.”

 
          
“I
wore the talisman when I visited the pool,” she murmured, “both yesterday and
today.”

 
          
“Yesterday?”
Eyrik leaned forward, brows raised in mute
query.

 
          
Wynett
nodded without speaking, angry at
herself
for letting
slip that tidbit of knowledge. Though surely, she thought, if he
does
control the pool he must know that.

 
          
“I
see,” he said musingly. “And does that account for your sad humor of last
night? Did you perceive something similar?”

 
          
Again
she nodded without speaking.

 
          
Eyrik
made a sound that was both sigh and grunt, as if he understood and did not
welcome the understanding. “Twice,” he said softly. “You have twice seen Kedryn
in the arms of your sister.”

 
          
Wynett
nodded silently a third time.

 
          
“Mayhap alternatives.”
Eyrik smiled as though seeking to
impart reassurance where none was valid. “And you wore the talisman on each
occasion?”

 
          
“I
wear it always,” she confirmed.

 
          
“Perchance
that is not enough,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “I do not pretend to
understand the full power of the stone, but perhaps it requires some greater
application.”

 
          
“How?”
she asked, bluntly.

 
          
Eyrik
shrugged, his eyes narrowing as he frowned, the very image of a man locked in
thought, his expression evincing only concern, the desire to help her.

 
          
“Mayhap
closer contact with the pool,” he suggested after a while. “Mayhap you should
place the talisman in the pool.”

 
          
Alarm
tugged at Wynett’s heart and she shook her head. “I should surely lose it.”

 
          
“I
do not mean you to sink the stone,” Eyrik chuckled.
“Merely
that you might suspend it beneath the surface—like bait for the truth that
applies to you.
In that way its power might cut through the alternatives
offered to show only that which applies to you.”

 
          
“I
would need
remove it,” she said warily, not liking the
suggestion.

 
          
“What
harm could come?” Eyrik laughed again, louder, as though her fear was so
groundless as to be amusing. “You hold the chain—you may remove the stone at
will. There is nothing in the pool, my dear. No leviathan will rise from its
depths to snatch the talisman from you.”