The Gift (52 page)

“Even with all that has been said here today?” said Saliman in astonishment.

Nelac looked at him from underneath his brows. “How long since you have been here, Saliman? Five years? And you, Cadvan? At least a year?” They both nodded. “I must tell you, then, that Enkir has banned the teaching of women here.”

“What?” said both Bards, at the same time. Maerad, forgetting that Cadvan had already told her, asked, “Who’s Enkir?”

“Enkir is First Bard,” Nelac explained. “You both know that he has been writing against women for some time. Three years ago he forbade the teaching of swordcraft and unarmed combat to women. Late last year he published the edict that women should not be taught as Bards.”

“But that’s not fair!” Maerad burst out.

“It is a measure of his power,” Nelac continued. “Since Nardil died, four years ago now, there has been no check on him. I do what I can, of course, but I and a few others are consistently outvoted on the Council. It’s been more than a lifetime since there was a woman on the First Circle. I like it not. Something is wrong in the Balance here, and it slips always more awry.”

“Enkir is proud and ambitious,” said Saliman. “I well remember. But I think he is not an evil Bard.”

“Not evil, maybe,” Nelac answered. “But a man of iron will. He is certain that he does right, and so convinces others. And it can be costly to oppose him.”

“I find it hard to believe him corrupt, even though I have no love for him,” said Cadvan. “He has done much in service of the Light.” There was a silence as the Bards brooded on their own thoughts, and Maerad felt her uneasiness returning.

“I had a dream last night,” she said abruptly. “It was . . .” She stopped; the nausea rose inside her again, and she waited for it to go away.

“A dream?” said Cadvan quickly. “I forgot to mention her foredream in Innail,” he said to the other two.

Nelac looked up. “Is there no end to this girl’s abilities?” he asked.

“It was the same one. Only this time I understood it,” Maerad said. She related the two dreams, fighting down the sickly sensation of nightmare, and again the Bards listened with absolute attention. Nelac’s hands gripped the side of his chair as she spoke, and his knuckles whitened.

“I see,” he said quietly, when she had finished.

“What do you see, Nelac?” asked Cadvan swiftly.

“It is certainly a foredream, and it has too much in common with Lanorgil’s prophecy for my comfort,” he said. Maerad looked down to hide her expression; she felt queasy. “ ‘Look to the north!’ I wonder what that means. It appears to me, Maerad, that if indeed you are to search for the Treesong, you must look north. But it’s also a warning. There is much amiss here. It seems to me imperative that Maerad be instated as soon as possible, so we know for sure if she is the Fated One. I will ask for a Council tomorrow.”

“That is what I think too,” said Saliman soberly. “But it grows late, and all this talk has made me tired. I think it’s time for some wine.”

After their conference Maerad wanted some fresh air, so Cadvan showed her the First Circle. She stared at the buildings, marveling at the graceful towers. They were mostly round, although some were oddly shaped, with nine or seven sides, and many were roofed with gilded tiles. Around the windows and doors were carved strange faces, some grotesque, some of surpassing beauty, and inscriptions in ancient runes. They were built of white stone joined with such skill that some looked as if they were carved from a single block, and against the white walls flowered anarech trees, which grew in few places elsewhere in Annar. The anarech were tall and graceful, with black bark and long leaves silver beneath and dark on top, so when they rippled in the wind they looked like fountains of moving light and shadow. They were now in full flower, and after the previous night’s storm the streets were crimson with fallen petals.

There was little other vegetation in the streets of Norloch: the citadel was austere, eschewing mere prettiness. There was something that bothered Maerad, but at first she couldn’t put her finger on it; it took her a while to work out what it was. She couldn’t hear the voices of children anywhere. No child laughed in the hidden courtyards or played in the lanes; the people who walked the streets were adult and grave, and she saw very few women. Like Nelac’s house, Maerad thought Norloch was grand and beautiful; but it also seemed cold, more conscious of its majesty than of the living beat of human life.

Cadvan, however, who was used to the glory of Norloch, was deep in thought. “I’m glad that Nelac and Saliman agree with what I think about you,” he said as they walked. “It eases me. I am all but convinced, but to some it might be such a mad idea that it could take more than all the signs we have. It gives me hope that the First Circle will instate you.”

“What if they do, and I’m not the One?” Maerad said hopefully. The thought lifted a weight off her heart.

“Then I am wrong, that is all,” said Cadvan, smiling. “I could take you to a good School, maybe to Gent, since that is not far from here, and you could complete your learning.”

Maerad thought for a while, remembering what Dernhil had said to her about continuing her studies. She would like to see his School. “Would you stay there?” she asked, knowing the answer already.

He glanced at her quickly, his face unreadable. “For a time, until you were settled in,” he said.

“I’d like that best of all,” Maerad said meditatively. “Not to be the One, and to learn reading and writing properly. Maybe Hem could come too. All that other stuff still seems ridiculous to me.” She remembered the rhyme Saliman had sung:
Edil-Amarandh to save.
What could
I
do?”

“None of us know what we can do,” said Cadvan. “Perhaps you are not the One, though even Nelac now is certain that you are. Perhaps it
is
ridiculous. We will know for sure soon, one way or the other.” They walked on in silence.

When Maerad returned from her walk, Hem asked if she would come to his scrying. She was curious to see what scrying looked like from the outside, and she eagerly assented.

“It’s not usual for anyone to be there,” said Nelac dubiously. “Scrying is a very private thing. But neither is it usual to scry a child.” They were again in Nelac’s sitting room, the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows. Hem was standing with his back turned to Nelac, looking out into the garden.

“I’d like it better if Maerad was there,” he said. Despite his cocksure veneer, Hem was unable to conceal the nervousness in his voice, and Maerad’s heart lurched with pity. What if the scrying revealed that Hem was not her brother, after all? She’d still feel the same about him, she thought. Somehow they belonged to each other.

“Of course I’ll be there, if you want,” she said warmly, glancing sideways at Nelac. He nodded.

“That’s fair,” he said gently. “And now is as good a time as any. Waiting is usually the worst part of any ordeal. Yes, Hem?”

Hem nodded dolefully, looking as if he were being led to his execution. Nelac took them to a room Maerad hadn’t seen before, which she thought must be Nelac’s study. It was much bigger than Dernhil’s, lined from floor to ceiling with books and laid with a richly dyed blue carpet, and it looked out on the same garden as the sitting room. In the corner was a huge gilt harp, carved in the semblance of a dragon, and next to that a big oak desk. As in every other room in Nelac’s quarters, parchments and scrolls and papers were piled everywhere, and among them were more curious objects: figurines of alabaster and jasper, and models of ships and musical instruments carved intricately out of polished wood and stone. But then her attention turned to Hem and Nelac.

As Cadvan had done in the Irihel with Maerad, Nelac asked Hem to stand in front of him, and they placed their hands on each other’s shoulders. With a slight shock, Maerad saw that Hem was almost as tall as Nelac. Hem glanced nervously over to Maerad, and she winked at him encouragingly. He gulped, and then looked into Nelac’s eyes.

“Now, Hem,” said Nelac in the Speech, “relax.” He muttered a few words that Maerad could not catch, and began to glimmer with the same silver light as when he had healed Cadvan. This time it was not so intense; it was a gentler radiance, as mild as starlight. It seemed to Maerad that light gathered around Hem as well, only the luminosity around him was slightly different: more golden. A beam of light seemed to link their eyes, though when she blinked she wasn’t sure if she really saw it at all, or just imagined it from the intensity of their gaze.

Hem seemed to fall into a trance; his eyes went completely blank, as if he saw nothing around him. Then his hands clutched Nelac’s shoulders, and for a second he seemed to struggle, and then his face went completely white. She couldn’t see Nelac’s expression, as he was facing away from her. Maerad bit her lip with anxiety; was Hem all right? Then, much more quickly than she expected, Nelac leaned forward and kissed Hem’s brow, and he let go of his shoulders. Hem’s hands dropped away from Nelac, as if he were exhausted, and the light in both of them died away.

“Well done, Hem,” said Nelac softly. “It is a hard thing.”

Hem sat down abruptly on the floor. His face was still pale, but his expression was more open than Maerad had ever seen it. He looked up at her and then, to her surprise, blushed.

“I saw you,” he said. “I mean, I remembered you. I didn’t before. You were a little girl, but you looked big to me. You looked just the same.” He halted, an intolerable grief gathering in his eyes. “Father was holding me.” His face crumpled, and he covered it with his hands, and Maerad saw that his shoulders were shaking. She felt suddenly the truth of Nelac’s admonition about the privacy of scrying; this was a sorrow more intimate than even a sister could share.

She turned away from Hem to Nelac, feeling a glow of relief spreading through her body. Now all doubt was gone; Hem was her brother, beyond question. She hadn’t realized how anxious she had been.

Nelac looked weary, as if he had labored long in thought. “Yes, it’s true. Hem is your brother,” he said, catching her eye. “I am very glad that Hem agreed to this. It makes me much surer in my mind. The more we are sure of in these doubtful times, the better.” He fumbled around for a chair, and sat down, passing his hand over his eyes. “I’m not as young as I was,” he said. “It’s a tiring business, looking into another’s soul. I can quite see why Cadvan didn’t wish to scry Hem. There is much anguish there.” He sighed heavily.

Maerad stood awkwardly before both of them, feeling like an intruder. “Can I get you something?” she asked at last. “A drink, maybe?”

Nelac smiled wanly. “A glass of laradhel would be most welcome, thank you, Maerad.”

Maerad left the room with a feeling of release. She brought back two glasses of the laradhel, leaving one by Hem on the floor, and then left them alone. It didn’t feel right to be there.

At dinner that night, Hem was absent: he had gone to his chamber after the scrying and had not reappeared. Saliman arched an eyebrow. “He
must
be tired, to miss a meal,” he said. “Cadvan tells me the scrying went well?”

“Yes, it confirmed everything we discussed earlier today,” said Nelac briefly. “There’s no doubt now.” Maerad thought he still looked weary.

Nelac said then that he had arranged a Council for the following afternoon. “Enkir was curious to know what you had to say that was important enough for a full Council,” he said, glancing at Cadvan. “I told him you had news from the north.”

“That’s true enough,” said Cadvan. “Important news, as it happens.”

“And I also said that Saliman bore messages from the Circle of Turbansk, which require the deliberation of all the Bards. It was a little trickier to get permission for Maerad to attend. If I had said we wanted to bring a girl, he would have refused outright. In the end, I told him that Cadvan wished to bring his student. Even he wouldn’t dare to throw her out, in front of the whole Circle.”

“Do I have to go?” asked Maerad, her heart sinking. She had hoped that she would be excused.

“It’s crucial that you are there,” Nelac answered. “They need to sense your Gift for themselves. So, yes, I’m afraid you have to go.”

Maerad made a face. She didn’t like the sound of Norloch’s First Circle at all.

“I strongly suggest that we omit any mention of the Elementals, and of Maerad’s lyre,” Nelac continued. “I think that, for now, we should speak just of our surmise that Maerad is the One, and say why.”

“I agree,” said Saliman, wiping his plate with some bread and chewing it with relish. “Any suggestion of a connection with the Elidhu, and the more doubtful Bards would instantly balk. I see no reason, either, to mention Hem. Only we three know who he is, and only those of this house even know he is here. I think it would complicate our case.”

“There are no spies in this house, if that is what you are suggesting,” Nelac said. “But I take your point.”

“The Hulls’ interest in Hem strengthens our argument,” objected Cadvan.

“Yes, but do you think they’re going to believe that you’ve found
two
Bards of Pellinor?” said Saliman. “The Kulag, the wight, and that little episode with the Landrost should be enough to give pause. Some of the Circle would think we were gilding the lily already; presenting them with too many marvels at once would be a mistake. One thing at a time.”

“And no mention of the Treesong?” said Cadvan doubtfully.

“No, I think not,” said Nelac. “Definitely not. That can come later, when we can prove Maerad is the One. For the moment, we must just argue for her instatement under these special circumstances. That will be difficult enough. She is a woman, for a start, and she has none of the correct training.”

“It’s about factions,” Saliman explained to Maerad. “We have to be careful. If it’s Nelac, Cadvan, and me presenting an argument, it will be seen as a bid for power by Nelac.”

“Why?” asked Maerad, bewildered.

“Because Nelac was mentor to both of us, when we were young Bards,” said Saliman. “So we’re seen to be on his side. There’s the question of the One being a woman, to begin with. Enkir will see that as a direct attack on him. And for some, that will be enough to discount our arguments altogether.”