Mirror 04 The Way Between the Worlds (69 page)

nauseating smile that revealed black gums and stained teeth. 'But you are
still a great teller. Go on with your telling with our blessing and goodwill.'
'But . . .' said Llian.
The smile became a rictus. 'I could have taken away your honour before you
told your tale,' snapped Wistan. 'No Great Tale beside your name then, Llian!'
'Nor yours neither, you bloody hypocrite!' Laarni roared. One of the masters
whispered in Thandiwe's ear. 'Wait a minute!' she said. 'You haven't consulted
me!'
Wistan was taken aback by her sudden boldness. He conferred with the other
masters, then turned back to her. 'The master-elect may vote on this decision.
How do you vote, Thandiwe? Vote for integrity!'
'Integrity?' She choked on it. 'The word has been on your tongue so long that
it stinks like your breath, Wistan. Thankfully your time is over.' 'Vote!' he
snarled.
'I vote against you, Wistan. There are a dozen masters here today whose crimes
are greater than Llian's.'
'The master-elect's vote is null,' said Wistan, 'because of her well-known
conflict of interest. My decision stands, my last as master!'
'And here is my first!' snapped Thandiwe. 'Llian will be reinstated
immediately I take office.'
'You can't!' said Wistan. 'A master who has been dismissed can't be considered
for readmission in less than seven years. And that requires a two-thirds
majority of all the master chroniclers.'
Thandiwe clenched her fists, then turned away, controlling herself with an
effort. 'Llian, you have indeed been a great master chronicler. You have done
much for the reputation of the college, and for the Histories too, in spite of
your ... failings. But who among us does not have faults? I know I do. Perhaps
you will do great things again. It is my decision that we review your conduct,
and consider your case again, in seven years.'
'How dare you!' Wistan's boiled-egg eyes almost bulged out of his head with
his fury, but there was nothing he could do about it.
'I haven't finished!' Thandiwe said. 'At the same time, when our heads have
cooled, we will vote on the record of Master Wistan. Perhaps the masters will
strike him from the record. Posterity must know the truth about all of us,
especially those who have the honour of being master of the college!' She
turned to Llian. 'I'm sorry, Llian, I can do no more. Fare you well!'
Karan watched as, completely numb, Llian went down the steps, down the aisle
and outside. The show was over.
The End of the Tale
Llian was very quiet on the long journey home. The loss of his honour seemed
to have stripped away all the self-confidence that gaining it had previously
brought him. To Karan's mind he was not the chronicler she knew and loved at
all. He was more the shy, awkward young man he must have been as a student, no
longer sure of his place in the world. Karan did not like the transformation,
but she could not see what to do to help him.
The night of their return to Gothryme, Karan was rearranging the clothes in
her drawers when she came upon the small black bead that Rulke had given her.
Taking it out of its clear case, she weighed it in her hand. It was light and
as black as liquorice. 'The least I can do for you,' Rulke had said. That
could have a thousand meanings. Was it an ornament, a good-luck charm, a
magical talisman or even a tablet?
She sniffed but it had no odour at all. She licked it. The bead had a faint,
ethereal taste, as elusive as week-old musk. Karan popped the bead in her
mouth. It lay on her tongue, slowly dissolving, and a little tickling
sensation ran through her. 'Llian!' she called. 'Yes?' 'Come upstairs.'
They went on with their lives. Llian worked away quietly, completing the
copies of his Great Tale, even going so far as to decorate some of the
capitals with gold and silver leaf, and ink made from powdered chips off the
piece of lapis lazuli he had carried all the way from the Great Tower of
Katazza. Illumination was an art he had some skill at, since his mother and

sisters followed that trade. He would spend the winter on the copies, making
sure that the three to be sent to Chanthed in the spring were perfect. He had
planned to take them personally, but felt like an exile now. Lilis's copy
would remain in the Great Library.
And after that? Llian no longer knew what to do with himself. The Histories
were his life but he was forbidden to work on them, except in the way that any
unschooled amateur might. All libraries were closed to him, and all archives.
He had spent a lot of time thinking about his future, in particular about the
key Rulke had given him. Llian hid that in a secret place. One day, if he was
ever reinstated as a master chronicler, he would follow that tale and write
the Histories of the Charon as he had promised Rulke. He must be reinstated!
That obligation could never be put aside.
Llian had decided to put his notes relating to Mendark's Tale, which were in
one of the journals saved from the fire, into the archives of the library at
Chanthed. One day another student would come along to tell it for posterity,
and maybe even make it into the Great Tale that Mendark had so coveted. Llian
never would.
So the weeks went by, unhappily for Llian. Once he had loved scribe's work,
but now even copying out his Great Tale was a chore, though not one he
neglected. Nothing but his best was good enough for the Tale of the Mirror.
When his eyes could no longer focus, or he could no longer hold his hand
steady, Llian wandered listlessly about the manor. He tried many jobs and
succeeded at none of them, for he could do nothing well except writing and
telling, and there was little need for either at Gothryme. He was
miserable, and so was whoever he worked with, for they had to do the job again
after he was finished.
'This isn't working, Llian,' Karan said one day, as kindly as she could.
'I'm not earning my keep, am I?'
'Of course you are! But you've got to do what you're good at, not disrupt the
whole place for the sake of keeping busy.'
The next day Llian took his pack and set off down the road, telling his tales
for money wherever he could find an audience. He was away for weeks, going as
far as Thurkad. He returned with a small bag of coin, for which Karan was
grateful, though Llian did not enjoy the experience nearly as much as he once
had. He was terribly lonely on the road, and being a teller only reminded him
how much he wanted to be a master chronicler again.
'There's nothing I can do here!' he said a few days after his return. 'I feel
quite useless.'
Karan thought about asking him to search out her own Family Histories, to find
out what her father had been up to in Carcharon. That was something she never
stopped thinking about. But, afraid that Llian might uncover something
unpleasant, she desisted.
At the end of autumn everyone gatheredbefore Karan'sblazing hearth again,
telling each other what had gone on over the past months. There were heroic
tales of struggles with beasts and monsters; tragic tales too. Karan's own
story took not much time at all, for they could see her season in her garden,
orchard and fields. In Gothryme, the drought had ended and the harvest was
good. The building work was still a long way from completion though, for want
of coin. The year had not been that good, and now it was tax time again.
Karan was dreading that, for there was no possibility of going to Elludore to
recover Faelamor's debt. That place was so full of lorrsk that it would
probably never be reclaimed. She felt sure Gothryme would be taken from her
this time.
The tiny dose of the Histories had done nothing to cure Llian who was still
miserable. The telling and copying only made him long for what he could no
longer have. Outside a sleety rain began to fall. It was getting dark already.
Shand pulled his chair closer to the fire and unsealed a flask of gellon
liqueur, the first of a crate he'd shipped down from Tullin. He poured a
generous cup for each of them, hardly begrudging it at all.
'You know that verse about the thrice betrayed?' said Yggur. 'All the time I

thought it meant you.'
'Me?' laughed Shand. 'No, the Aachim were the thrice-betrayed. Betrayed by
Rulke when Tar Gaarn fell; then betrayed by Faelamor when Shazmak was
overcome; but most of all betrayed by their own inescapable folly.'
Tallia sipped her liqueur, sitting silently by the fire. Surely she was
missing Jevi, who was away with Pender down the coast.
'Do you think Mendark was corrupt all the time?' she said to nobody in
particular. She still felt deceived by what he had done.
Shand replied. 'No, he always cared for Santhenar and Thurkad. His faults were
too great a love for power and its trappings, and too great a concern for his
own reputation. Anything was justifiable if it kept him in power, for he
believed that he was the only one capable of standing against the enemy.'
'Yet he was greater than he seemed,' Yggur said. 'Though he was my enemy,
right to the end he was guiding the affairs of Santhenar. We owe a lot to him.
No one could have been more protective of our world. Nonetheless, his crimes
were terrible ones, not easily forgiven.'
'Know too that he was past his time, as I am,' said Shand. 'Life had become a
burden to Mendark. He would not have been sorry to go. But he loved to gamble,
and the chance of seizing the construct was too great a gamble to resist. Even
so, he did the right thing in the end. He may get his Great Tale after all,
one day.'
Yggur grimaced and changed the subject. He wasn't feeling that generous. 'A
thranx was sighted only a few leagues from here the other day. How many of
them got through, do you think?'
'Dozens, if not hundreds,' said Malien. 'And thousands of lesser creatures.
Enough for them to breed, in the wild places. We will never be rid of them.'
'What troubled times we live in!' exclaimed Yggur. 'Sometimes I wonder how
ordinary people can bear to go on with their lives, working their holdings and
bringing children into the world when it can all be snatched away so
brutally.'
'It's an uncertain world,' agreed Shand. 'An uncertain future. Who would plan
for it?'
'I would!' snorted Karan. 'While the great spout philosophy, the humble must
go to work for their daily bread. If we don't get started on the future we
will wither as the Aachim did. Did you see my new gardens? I am going to make
Gothryme bloom like a little bit of paradise. And maybe even make enough to
pay my taxes,' she added, glaring at Yggur, for she expected his tax collector
any day now.
Yggur still ached for Maigraith, his pain seeming to grow greater with time.
'If only there were a way to bring her back,' he said into his wine cup after
dinner. 'She brought hope into my life and I abandoned her.'
'I grieve for her too,' said old Shand. 'But at least she is with Yalkara.'
'I thought the longing would grow less with time,' said Yggur, "but every day
it hurts more. I wish I could bring her back.'
'You can't, and even if you could she may not want to ... renew the
relationship.'
'I know that!' Yggur snarled. 'But I trapped her in Aachan. I just can't cope
with that. If only I knew she was all right.'
There was a long silence. Karan used her arms to push herself up in her seat.
'She is!' she said softly.
Yggur almost fell off his chair. He stared at her, but she just sat there,
smiling. Llian, who knew all too well her mischievous ways, said, 'You're
unkind, Karan. Tell him, if you know something.'
'Maigraith has never been able to break my link unless I allowed it,' she
said. 'It's still there, a little warm knot in my mind. I can't use it across
the abyss but I know she is still alive.'
'Why didn't you tell me this before?' Yggur said furiously.
'I've been too preoccupied with other things,' she said, smiling sweetly.
'Like my taxes.'
'Oh, damn your taxes!' he roared.

'I wish you would.'
'Very well! Get me pen and paper quick, before I change my mind.'
Llian ran across with fresh leaves and a pen. Yggur scribbled something on the
sheets, signed each, sealed them and Shand and Llian witnessed them.
Yggur read it out. 'The bearer, Karan Elienor Melluselde Fyrn, is hereby
absolved of all taxes, duties, levies, rates, tributes and other imposts for a
period of ten years from this date, in acknowledgment of her service to the
state. Will that do?' He handed the documents to Karan.
'Very handsomely,' she replied, keeping one and handing the other back. 'Let's
drink to it.'
But when they were well into their drinks Yggur raised the issue again. 'If
only the flute hadn't been destroyed, we might have opened the Way and tracked
her down with your link. I don't suppose . . .'
'No, Yggur,' Shand said gently. Having given up that hope for himself he could
not bear to see it reopened. 'No chance whatsoever.' They lapsed back into
silence.
Later that night, Karan and Llian were sitting by the fire after everyone else
had gone to bed. Karan took a deep breath. 'Llian - ' she began.
'You know,' said Llian, returning to the topic that so often troubled him, 'I
thought I knew everything once - everything was so certain when I was young.'
'You're still young, only thirty!'
'I feel twenty years older than I did when I met you. But I meant, after I
became a chronicler. You can never know how that changed me. Almost overnight
I went from being a penniless, persecuted kid to being someone that people
looked up to. It transformed my life! I had respect and an important place in
the world. I belonged! But now, if I went back to the college I'd feel like a
trespasser. It's all gone. I threw it away.'
Karan felt her fury at Wistan stirring. 'You were foolish, but you didn't
deserve what Wistan did to you. You were the victim of a malicious,
Zain-hating old man.'
'I caused Mendark to burn down the archives, and lots of prisoners died.'
'No you didn't! You pushed him but he chose to do it.' 'I was responsible for
Rulke's death. I'll never forgive myself for that.1
'No you weren't! You were trying to save my life. Tensor killed Rulke, not
you.'
'Ah, but how I enjoyed that power to manipulate. I deserved to have my
mastership stripped from me.'
'If everyone who enjoyed using power were tobe punished, few people in
Santhenar would escape. There used to be jokes about the unscrupulous
masters.'
'So there were,' Llian remembered. 'I used to tell them myself. There was
Gissini the Pervert, Reich the Plagiarist, Mara the Fraud - what a liar she
was! None of them was ever punished.'
'Including Wistan, who forced you into the affair of the Mirror in the first
place to get rid of you. Disgusting old hypocrite! He made sure the college
accepted the Great Tale before he cast you out.'
Llian was pleased to be defended so stoutly, though not
completely mollified. T was stupid though. I want my master's honour back,
more than anything!'
She took his hand. 'I'm sure you'll get it back, Llian. Now -'
'I'm not!' he snapped.
Karan moved in her chair. She had something important to say to him, but
couldn't find the words among all his prattle. 'Llian - '
'What a terrible world it is/ he interrupted again. 'Look at the last two
years. Look at the Histories! Life is a lottery. It's not the fittest who
survive at all, otherwise we would all be slaving for the Charon until the end
of time. It is the least unlucky, and there is just a grain in the balance.'
'Am I supposed to be comforted by that?' Karan retorted. 'What of our future
together? What of our children's future?'
'Children?' he said dreamily. 'Triunes can't have children.' Then something in