The Gift (51 page)

Cadvan sighed. “I should have been able to. But I was taken, I confess to my shame, by surprise. I was in a hurry and made the wrong decision; I thought I could deal with Hulls and wers. Even if there were five Hulls, it seemed to me not impossible; a risk, but not a great risk, if I was wary. A wight was something else.” He grinned wryly. “Even if it might seem but a little thing to you.”

“Well,” said Maerad, blushing slightly. “It didn’t seem little, so much as . . . as I didn’t think about it. It sort of just came out of me. I’ve been very tired since,” she added with a rush.

“No wonder,” Saliman said, smiling. “I would have been laid out for a week, myself.”

“I wondered . . . ,” said Maerad, and then stopped.

“What, O my Deliverer?” said Cadvan.

Maerad blushed again at his teasing. “I wondered if the Landrost had hurt you, and that was why . . .” She faltered and stopped again.

“The Landrost did indeed hurt me,” said Cadvan. “And I was less in my power than I could be. But that is no excuse for rushed decisions and the mistakes that come from them. I judge myself at fault, and so I am; and it is a severe judgment, Maerad, because things very nearly were otherwise, and the result would have been terrible for many more than us.” Maerad saw for an instant an implacable harshness in Cadvan’s face, and she shivered; she thought she would not like to be judged by Cadvan, if she had done any real wrong. But then it passed, and he kept speaking. “If the cloud is golden-edged, it is that it made you come into the Speech; and perhaps only such extremity could do that. You were very deeply veiled.”

“The deep veiling can be a sign of a great Gift,” put in Nelac. “There was Thorondil of Culor, say. He didn’t come into the Speech until he was twenty-one.”

“There is more,” said Cadvan. He spoke then of the parchment that Dernhil had given Maerad, in which Lanorgil had spoken of his foredream, and told Nelac about Maerad’s lyre, the hidden treasure of Pellinor. At Nelac’s request, she ran up to her room and fetched them both from her pack. The old Bard took the lyre with reverence, turning it over in his hands.

“Yes, Cadvan, you are right,” he said at last, brushing his fingers lightly over the strings so they sang faintly through the room. “Dhyllic ware indeed. A beautiful, a perfect thing. Such balance!”

“I was hoping you could read what the script says, around the rim,” Cadvan said. “I don’t recognize the lettering at all.”

Nelac looked at it closely. “No,” he said at last. “There were many scripts in use in Afinil, and I do not know all of them. These are runes, and such scripts can hold a whole poem in a single symbol. They are very difficult to decipher if the key is lost. But perhaps it says nothing more than the name of the maker and a snatch of verse.”

He stroked the lyre again, then gave it to Maerad, who slipped it back into the case Cadvan had given her. She handled it with more than usual care; it was precious to her, as it had always been, but these Bards regarded it with a kind of awe.

“This is the parchment Dernhil gave me,” she said, holding it out to Nelac. He scrutinized it thoughtfully.

“I read it as telling the Truename of the One who was Foretold,” said Cadvan, looking inquiringly at Nelac. “What do you think?”

“Seek and cherish the Fire Lily, the Fated One, which blooms the fairer in dark places, and sleepeth long in darkness: from such a root will blossom the White Flame anew, when it seems its seed is poisoned in the center,”
said Nelac, reading from the parchment. “Hmmm.” He glanced up at Maerad and back to the parchment. “It is certainly not the lily of Pellinor he speaks of, and it does seem plain that he talks of a Truename, sometimes that is said to come ‘from a dark place.’
‘Note the Sign and be not Blind! In the name of the Light and in anxiety for the Speech, whose roots lie in the Treesong, which nourishes all.’
The Treesong? Now, it is long since I have thought on that. . . .”

“You know of it?” Cadvan leaned forward, his eyes brightening. “It’s a clue; it’s something to do with the Elementals. There is something else. Maerad, tell them of the Elidhu.”

Maerad then told them of the meeting with the Elidhu in the Weywood, and recited the song she had sung to her. Saliman and Nelac listened in absolute silence, and she enjoyed the telling, sensing their amazement. Hem looked up, his mouth open, for once forgetting to eat. Maerad thought about the strange knowledge that Ardina and the Elidhu were one and the same. But they were forbidden to mention Rachida, and she had not even told Cadvan of Ardina’s revelation.

“Elemental blood in the House of Karn! That surprises even me!” said Nelac at last. “But I’m sure you’re right, there is a connection. I shall have to go deep into my memory to find it. The Treesong is an ancient tradition, dating from Afinil, long fallen into shadow; it’s to do with the Speech. It does link, somehow, with the Foretold; I can’t quite remember . . . there are so many songs about the Foretold. And they are all riddles.”

A beautiful tenor voice suddenly filled the room:

Maerad looked up in surprise. It was Saliman, whom she had never heard sing before. “What was that?” she asked.

“That’s from Pel’s
Canticles,
” he told her. “Written down just after the Great Silence. The Fire Lily seems clear enough, if we take Lanorgil’s prophecy as a guide. As for the Briar, that’s the House of Karn.”

“Is it?” she asked in astonishment.

“Its sign is a rose,” said Cadvan. “A wild rose.” He was frowning in thought. “I hadn’t thought of the
Canticles,
” he said. “Triple-tongued? Surely that means the Speech, the Annaren, and the language of the Elidhu?” He looked at Nelac, his face alight with excitement.

“Are you suggesting that Maerad is the Foretold?” asked Nelac, his eyebrows almost disappearing into his hair.

“Yes, yes, yes, of course I am.” Cadvan was musing again, abstracted. “The wave. What’s that? The wave means so many things. . . .”

“Cadvan, this is a great claim!” said Nelac. “Are you serious about this?”

Cadvan stared straight into Nelac’s eyes. “I’m as serious as I’ve ever been,” he said. “Need wakens the Light, it is said. Can you doubt there is need now?”

Nelac gazed back unblinkingly. Slowly he nodded, then sighed. He turned to Maerad, and his eyes lanced deep into her mind, much more searchingly than he had looked the night before. She flinched, taken by surprise. There was a sudden silence in the room. He then made a curious gesture: slowly his head sank down to his chest, and his right hand crept to the back of his neck and clasped it. He sat like that for some time while Cadvan and Saliman stared at him, the words arrested on their lips.

Finally Nelac looked up. “Yes, I believe that Maerad is the One,” he said. “I think you guess aright.” He sighed again, gazing at Maerad with an immense compassion. She stared back speechlessly, wanting to ask how he knew, feeling her blood singing in her ears.

“You have more to say, I think,” Nelac said.

“Yes,” said Cadvan. “But I wonder what the wave signifies?”

“It’s a sign of the Light, of course,” said Nelac. “And also it is a symbol of music and, as it happens, of the School of Amdridh. It might just mean the sea. It’s too many-sided to make sense of.”

“It says ‘foam’ later in the
Canticles,
” put in Saliman.

“Hmmm. Yes, it does.” Nelac frowned. “The Elidhu were associated with wave foam, being able to take different forms. That’s drawing a long bow, of course.” He paused, frowning in abstraction. “I remember what the Treesong is now. It is an ancient word for the Speech, from the days of Afinil. It signifies that which is beyond words. And it is also a song, supposedly written when the Bards first appeared in Annar, in which the mystery of the Speech is held, but the Lore maintains that it is a riddle that no Bard has been able to unravel. And it is long lost. Even in the first days after the Silence, when Bards began to find again much that had vanished, many said that it never existed.”

There was a blank pause.

“Then how do we find it?” asked Maerad.

Nelac shot her a sharp glance. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I think you must.” He looked inquiringly at Cadvan. “So, what else?”

“There’s the question of Hem, or Cai,” said Cadvan.

Hem stirred as if he were going to say something, but thought better of it.

Cadvan plunged into the story of their discovery of Hem, telling of his life in the orphanage and their discovery of his medallion. Nelac and Saliman this time cross-questioned Cadvan more closely, and then questioned Maerad.

“I
know
he’s my brother,” said Maerad, unconsciously moving protectively toward Hem. “I think I knew before I knew — underneath, I mean.”

“It could be that your understandable desire to have your brother alive is here read wrong,” said Nelac gently. “So far the only proof we have is his medallion and a passing resemblance to Dorn. The Hulls could have placed the medallion on him, to fool others.”

“No, it’s mine,” said Hem vehemently. “I had it when I went there. I’ve always had it.” And Maerad recognized the passion of one who had nothing; she had felt exactly the same about her lyre, her one precious thing, her sole token of identity in Gilman’s Cot.

“That still doesn’t mean that a Hull couldn’t have put it there,” said Saliman. “And in the absence of other proof . . .” Maerad put her hand on Hem’s shoulder, clasping it tightly.

“Yes.” Nelac’s head lowered in deep thought. “Yes. And we know, of course, that memory can be inlaid into a mind. Hulls are fond of that. The only way we could be sure would be by scrying.”

“
I’m
not scrying him,” Cadvan said quickly. “It was bad enough scrying Maerad.”

“Then I will,” said Nelac. “That is, if Hem agrees.”

Hem was scowling down at the carpet. “I’m telling no lies,” he said thickly.

“I know,” said Nelac. “What I doubt is not something you can do on purpose. But you must know, Hem, that no one here is scried against his will. It would help us a lot if you did agree.”

There was a long pause.

“All right then,” said Hem angrily, sounding as if he were about to cry. “Scry me, if you don’t believe me!” He stood up and ran out into the garden.

“You’ve frightened him!” said Maerad heatedly, glaring at Nelac, and followed Hem outside. He was standing underneath a blossoming tree, glowering at the flowerbeds.

“Hem,” she called softly.

“What?” He didn’t turn around.

Maerad was at a loss. “Nelac . . . Nelac doesn’t mean to hurt you,” she said at last. “Cadvan scried me. It doesn’t hurt. You know, when he did it to me, I hurt him!”

“I’m not lying,” he said in a muffled voice. “It’s all right for you; nobody says they don’t believe
you.
”

“That’s not quite true,” answered Maerad, thinking back to the Council in Innail. “Anyway, he’s not going to do it
now.
Come on, come back in.”

Sulkily Hem turned around, his eyes lowered. Maerad took his hand and he shook it away, but he followed her back into the room. Cadvan, Saliman, and Nelac were sitting in silence.

“Hem, I am sorry if I have frightened you,” said Nelac gravely. “And I am sorry also that I seem to doubt you. What we are speaking of here is so important that we cannot be less than certain of what we believe.”

Hem nodded, swallowing hard.

“I can promise, however, that the scrying will not hurt you,” Nelac continued. “And I will order a special feast afterward, just for you, to make up for it.”

Hem nodded again, looking a little cheerier.

“I’m not
scared
of it,” he said with scornful bravado. “Do you want to do it now, then?” he asked, after a pause. “My brains are ready.”

Saliman grinned and gently cuffed him. “What would you not do for food, rascal?” he asked. “We have yet to finish here, anyway.”

“Later will be quite soon enough,” said Nelac, hiding a smile. “And then, of course, we must decide what to do with you.”

“Do with me?” The alarm instantly returned to Hem’s face.

“You must go to a School.”

“Oh.”

“But alas, I do not think that Norloch will accept you.”

“No, probably not,” said Cadvan. “I had forgotten that. . . .”

“Forgotten what?” Maerad looked up sharply.

“Somehow those of the Pilanel do not seem to get places here,” said Cadvan, with a trace of contempt in his voice. “A School is supposed to accept all those with the Gift, but here it is argued that, as Norloch is the Center of the Light, only those of proper birth should have the honor of being taught here.”

“But Hem’s of the House of Karn!” said Maerad. “You said that was one of the noblest families there is!”

“Yes,” said Cadvan. “But even if we are completely sure of it, it’s going to be difficult to persuade anyone else of Hem’s claim. Especially here. I think also that Hem might be happier in another School.”

“What about Turbansk?” asked Saliman.

“Turbansk?” Hem’s face suddenly lit up. “Could I really go there?”

“If you wish,” said Saliman. “I could take you. I must leave here soon.”

Maerad felt a sudden pang: would she lose her brother so quickly? Hem seemed to have the same thought. “Would Maerad come too?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” said Cadvan. “If not, she could certainly visit you.” Hem looked a little reassured.

“We can think on Hem’s future in the coming days,” said Nelac. “There are several possibilities. One of Hem’s, ah,
unusual
background needs to be placed carefully. I agree that Norloch is not the place. But how time rushes past! Already the sun is westering. I need to digest everything we have said today. It is clear, then, that we believe that Maerad is the One.”

Cadvan nodded.

“It is a big claim,” Nelac went on. “And we do not have a hope of convincing others until she is instated and we know her Name. I accept the prophecy of Lanorgil; he was one of the greatest Seers we have seen. I would be now very surprised if Maerad was
not
the One, but we must give thought to what is best for her. For all of us. For she is still very young, and untested in her powers; and she has not had the schooling that one of her abilities should have. And that can be a dangerous matter.” He paused, and his eyes again passed over Maerad’s face and she shivered, suddenly abashed; she remembered, with a qualm, the strange joy she had felt when she had destroyed the Kulag and the wight. “I think also,” Nelac added, “that we will have serious problems getting the First Circle here to agree to her instatement.”