The Sword Bearer (26 page)

John stared.

"The picture is of the top half of a male. What did they do with the bottom half?"

The remark touched something in John that made him laugh helplessly. At length he said, "The bottom half was still there. Nobody took it away. They just didn't take a picture of the rest of him. Oh Folly, how can I ever explain it to you?"

But Folly was frowning in deep concentration. "So I enlarge the male father. I fatten it in my mind. I color it, and I invent all the parts I cannot see. Oh, how little I know! Wisdom has yet to become an adornment round my neck Thank you, Just John, for explaining these mysteries to me."

John placed his arm round Folly's neck He began to tell him about life in Pendleton, about Salford Grammar School. He told him things he had told no one else, not even Mab, about the ring and the locket and the strange mystery of the parents he had never met, of his longing to find his father and of his terrible thirteenth birthday. Over two years of dammed-up pain were slowly released.

The explanation was long and complicated, for it required involved discussions of things that Folly could not understand at first But John felt relief in talking, and the explanations cemented a relationship between them. Folly
wanted
to under-stand, and he seemed to have the same comforting effect on John that the Changer himself had had.

"It was my thirteenth birthday," John explained slowly. "My granma was going to tell me all about the ring and the locket. But I never found out. She was dead when I got home."

"How terrible, Just John. How very terrible! What did you do?"

"Well, I didn't really think she was dead. At least I did and I didn't. But I called the Smiths (they're the folk who lived next door) and they helped me."

"But they were going to put you into this orn-a-fage ..."

"Orphanage."

"Yes, that's what I said, wasn't it?"

"But I had to get away ..."

"And to think that in the midst of your personal troubles you thought about us and came to help us!"

"Well, it wasn't exactly like that..."

"Perhaps not, but we will never cease to be grateful. How kind you are! How very generous and how kind!"

John knew he was not particularly kind or generous. It had been the Changer who had rescued him and had redirected his course. But how could he explain that to Folly? The afternoon sun was descending and he felt sleepy. He was leaning against Folly, feeling strangely at peace. He closed his eyes. Slowly his head slipped forward and his breathing deepened.

The sun set and darkness fell, but Folly never moved. Nor did John feel the thin and wasted arms of the seer who struggled to lift him when he eventually found them both. Mab carried him laboriously to John's chamber, there to tuck him gently between soft sheets.

King Bjorn's sorrow was turned into rage against his former master, the Mystery of Abominadon. And his rage resulted in an outpouring of energy. Within two days he was feverishly at work on his scheme for the iron portcullis guarding the entrance to the tunnel. The remaining work on it was quickly finished. And immediately he got Vixenia to use a proseo cornai stone to create a spell so the portcullis would only be raised when certain magical words were used.

Mab was indignant. He had made it plain that he would have no part in "misusing pross stones." And it was not by any means clear whether the "magic" had worked. The portcullis was certainly locked in place. It was in fact impossible to raise. The magic words they had chosen were a total failure. Mab watched their futile efforts to raise
it.
Though he said nothing, his view was well known. This may be why Bjorn made it clear that in
his
view they had achieved at least a partial success. "After all," he said, "we want to protect the tower. And with the iron of the portcullis rigidly in place we shall."

Bjorn called a meeting. Vixenia, Mab, Poison and John were the only ones who came. Bjornsluv was still too full of grief to attend. No one knew who invited Poison. King Bjorn was surprised to see her, but said nothing, supposing that Mab or John had brought her. He had called the meeting, Bjorn explained, to consider what the Mystery might do next and what steps could be taken to protect themselves and the Regents.

Mab's face was weary. He had never really recovered from his illness, and though he still held himself erect, his movements were slow and labored. "Let us be clear about one thing," he said slowly. "We are here to welcome the Regents, not to protect them. What happens in the tower is the Changer's bus-iness, not ours."

"You have confidence surely in the strength of the portcullis," King Bjorn observed.

"My confidence is in the wisdom of the Changer. We have yet to see whether the portcullis affords any protection. You will remember that the winds did not protect us. Besides, they do not blow constandy anyway.

"But we
must
be concerned about our own danger. It is all too real. We can leave the tower to the Changer. But we must prepare to defend ourselves from attacks. They are certain to come."

John fully expected Bjorn to defend the portcullis, but to his surprise the king's only comment was, "And what form might those attacks take?"

"I only wish I knew," Mab said. 'The Mystery is malicious and unforgiving. It will attack us out of spite for destroying his tower. I am surprised that it has so far done so little. I know that to your majesty it has brought great pain and suffering— a suffering in which we share. But we must not suppose that it has finished."

Bjorn's face was dark "Who will rid us of this great evil?"

"The Sword Bearer will—at least for a period of time. Once the Goblin Prince is dead, the Mystery's power will wane for several hundred years. The Qadar and their riders wll be banished to the caves of Aphela. The Goblins will not be seen for centuries and likewise the power of the sorcerers. But in the meantime our enemy is both unbelievably powerful and extremely spiteful. I can think of but one way in which we can anticipate its moves."

"And what is that?" Vixenia asked, her brush wrapped daintily around her tiny feet.

"The goblins always seem to know what the Mystery intends. For some reason, they and their prince play a key role in all that is happening. The goblins must meet somewhere in the swamp the night before the full moon. It might be possible— I do not say easy—but it might be possible to learn something by attending their meeting."

Bjorn shook his head. "It would be extremely dangerous even if it were possible. But how could it be done? How in that treacherous maze could you even find the goblins?"

"My staff may help. But the Sword Bearer has an infallible way. He simply walks into his own pain." Mab reminded them about the meaning of the pain in John's shoulder.

John began to feel his heart beat What adventure awaited him now? He did not like the thought of going in whatever direction increased his pain in order to find the goblins. Yet interest quickened as everyone realized the possibilities John's painful shoulder had.

"Does it trouble you at all now?" Vixenia asked.

John shook his head. "I hardly ever feel it. Only when I'm near the Goblin Prince ... or the Lord Lunacy. Perhaps just faintly now and then. I can feel it a tiny bit now, but it's nothing.

Mab looked at him keenly, glanced at Poison, but said nothing.

King Bjorn cleared his throat "Suppose you find your way to this assembly of goblins with their prince. How do you propose to be present without being detected?"

"Again, the Sword Bearer has an answer. Show them the Mashal Stone, John."

For two years John had carried the Mashal Stone in an inner pocket without ever using it. His restraint had a reason. Soon after their arrival on the island John had, in fun, again made himself invisible to Mab. But Mab had been indignant and had urged him to secrecy and to use the stone only for a valid reason. "Our enemies must never find out that we have recovered the stone," he said.

There were expressions of admiration at the beauty of the stone which all of them were invited to handle. "Now," Mab said to John as he dangled the stone from its chain, "sit close to me with your arm against mine."

John did so. Mab whipped the thin chain around both their arms. Instantly they disappeared. Poison hissed while Bjorn and Vixenia both leaped to their feet "Powers of Mi-ka-ya!" the Matmon cried. "Where have they gone?"

But John was preoccupied with his own astonishment He was staring at Poison, or at least at the place where Poison had been. What he saw was Tabby, Bjornsluv's missing cat, with an impish goblin seated on her back

Quickly Mab unwound the chain from around their arms and handed the pendant back to John, making them instandy visible. Mab had seen what John had. Ignoring cries of astonishment from Bjorn and Vixenia, he raised his staff above his head, looked hard at Poison and cried, "Avaunt, evil thing! Begone in the name of the Changer!"

"The cat is
shrinking"
Vixenia breathed.

It was true. Not only so, but its silhouette remained painted on the air like a ghosdy thing, as the cat inside the silhouette grew smaller. Its color was changing too. Within seconds there were more cries of astonishment as the normal-sized Tabby appeared inside what looked like the ghost of Poison. Then slowly the ghostly creature turned and stalked across the floor and through the wall while Tabby rose and rubbed herself affectionately against Bjorn's legs.

He picked her up, resumed his seat and petted her on his lap. He was shaking his head. "This is a morning full of surprises," he said.

"Could you do that for Itch and Grunt too?" Vixenia asked.

Mab nodded. But King Bjorn was more concerned with the mission to the goblins, and for some minutes the discussion centered around the possibilities that invisibility held. It was agreed that an attempt should be made to learn the plans of the Mystery and that in view of Mab's growing weakness, John should accompany him on his mission. But Bjorn was filled with concern. "Take great care," he said. "Much depends on your safe return." He looked at Tabby, now asleep on his lap. "What was it that left her?"

"A goblin, of sorts," Mab replied.

"And where did it go?"

Dismay filled the seer's face. "I was a fool not to think of it," he said slowly. "Doubdess it has gone to its master, the Goblin Prince, bearing tidings of our counsels. They will know all too soon both that we have the Mashal Stone and what we intend."

There was a dismayed silence. Mab shrugged his shoulders wearily. "Since we have no alternative we shall still have to go. It would help a little if we could have the remaining proseo comai stone ... in case of difficulties."

Vixenia quickly left the room returning a moment later to give it to Mab. "Take it," she said. "I realize now that perhaps I should have let you be in charge of them all along. After all, you risked your life to get them, and you know better than we how they are meant to work"

On the morning of the eve of the full moon John and Mab rose early and made for the coracle by the wharf in the cave below the tower. "How are we going to get out of the tunnel with the portcullis stuck in place?" John asked.

Mab smiled. "I didn't want to embarrass the king by asking that question. I'm sure he is aware of the problem. He must be pretty worried if he is awake, wondering whether we will in fact get out. There's no way to lower a boat from the walls. At least it would be very difficult."

But Bjorn was already at the wharf awaiting them. "What, then, are you going to do?" he said, as soon as he saw Mab. "I could get some of my followers to lower you from the parapets—but the method is not without peril."

Mab shook his head. "I don't think there will be any need," he said. "The powers of the Changer are infinitely greater than the power of a magic spell—especially of a spell that only half works!"

He raised his staff, and facing the inner entrance to the tunnel, cried, "Open! Open in the name of the Changer!"

It was impossible for them to see the portcullis from where they stood, but from the tunnel came hollow, rumbling, rattling sounds as the metal gate was raised. Bjorn shook his head in wonder. "Will you be able to close it again?" Mab nodded.

"Seer, I begin to see what you have been trying to tell us about the difference between magic and the power of the Changer. Certainly the Changer's power seems to be greater."

"All power comes from him."

They climbed into the waiting coracle and John, by now an expert in handling the small boat, began to paddle it gently toward the opening. Bjorn's face clouded again. "May Mi-ka-ya protect you!" he cried. "Take great care. My heart quakes with fear at the peril of your mission. We shall await your return with great longing."

Mab had chosen the early morning because he knew that goblins were the least watchful and the most careless around sunrise. "When dawn breaks they grow sleepy," he told John. "By sunrise most of them slumber."

The lake was calm. (As Mab had pointed out, the strange winds that came to protect the island not only failed to protect it, but did not blow constandy.) Halfway across Mab instructed John to put the Mashal Stone around his neck. "You can stop paddling," he said. "There is a wind behind us blowing us to shore. Use your paddle occasionally if you must to keep it headed toward the solitary tree at the edge of the swamp."

John looked puzzled. "If anyone does observe us," Mab said, "I want them to see a drifting coracle, not one containing two people that is paddled by an expert I shall lie on the floor of the coracle, and you, of course, will be invisible. Then if they spot us, though they will probably come down to examine the coracle, they will be less suspicious at finding it empty."

The day was, however, totally uneventful. If goblins spotted them they gave no sign of it And once the coracle lay resting against the shore in the shade of the tree the day became distinctly boring. They took turns keeping watch, Mab standing and leaning against the tree trunk, and John, when it was his turn, climbing onto a high bough of the tree. Whoever was on watch wore the Mashal Stone.