Mother Aegypt and Other Stories Part 6

Ermenwyr came to the city and his father's errands took little time. The temple porter was easily bribed, the worthless stock soon sold to the eager merchant, and the spy had his report neatly written out and ready with a visual presentation. n.o.body was sufficiently offended by his presence to challenge him to any duels. Ermenwyr enjoyed a leisurely evening at the theatre and breakfast on a sunlit terrace the next morning, before making his return.

And at sunset on Winter's Eve he waited in the forest, watching the gates of the House of the Aronikai. Presently he saw Desolation Rose creeping out, looking about her as the field mouse watches for the owl; she hurried away into the darkness. Ermenwyr tore down a piece of the sky-a corner, with no stars-for a cloak of invisibility, and went after her.

She walked a long way, up into high cold hills, gathering dry sticks as she went. In a bare open place she stopped. He watched from behind a standing stone as she made her small fire, and settled down by its meager warmth to wait.

Ermenwyr let her sit there until the stars had drifted far overhead and the mists were rising. (He was always scrupulous as to timing and effect.) Then he summoned his powers to him. Out of the night mist he conjured the illusion she expected to see: a towering figure of mysterious gloom. Then he walked out, just beyond the circle of firelight.

Desolation Rose looked up from where she crouched, shivering. Her eves were wide. Motionless, like a small trapped thing, she watched his slow approach. He stood at last on the other side of the fire.

Wordless. Waiting.

She drew all her strength into her heart, but couldn't make a sound. She knelt to him and her heart spoke instead, trusting that the G.o.d would know her prayer.

Ermenwyr smiled in his beard and kept his silence, as any G.o.d does. He came forward, and indicated to the girl that she should pleasure him.

So he lay with Desolation Rose, pa.s.sing himself off as a G.o.d, and a very creditable job he did of it.

Faint with terror and delight, she held him all night long.

When gray morning came she lay asleep; but Ermenwyr got up and made his departure, having had what he'd wanted. Beside the fire he left a bag with more gold, reasoning it would do her more good than revenge on her enemies, which he couldn't give her anyway. Still, for dramatic effect, he wrote the G.o.d's name in the ashes of her fire.

All lighthearted Ermenwyr went his way, and journeyed until under smirking stars he returned to his dread father's house. There he went straight to his apartments, flung himself into bed, and slept the sleep of the just.

He woke greatly refreshed, in broad morning. He bathed and dressed himself with more than usual care, for he was to make a report to his father on his affairs among the Children of the Sun. Then Ermenwyr went to his long mirror to comb his beard and preen a little.

He looked once-What? He rubbed his eyes, peered in the gla.s.s, and let out a cry of horror.

Instead of the small dapper sorcerer he was so fond of looking at, there in the mirror was reflected a looming darkness with eyes. Distant lightnings crackled in its heart.

Now Ermenwyr was terrified. He looked down at himself but could see nothing different. He looked back in the mirror and there It was still. He ran to his dresser and found a hand mirror to peruse: there It was with Its cloudy head. He ran to his washbasin and looked in at his reflection: even vet It looked out at him with Its hollow eves. He found a crystal ball and glanced at its surface: it roiled and boiled so with the phantom image that he thrust it hastily into a sock drawer.

Ermenwyr's heart hammered. In every reflective surface in the room clouds shifted; stars burned there.

Cautiously he opened his door. He stepped out in the corridor; looked this way, looked that way.

His father's guards were posted down at one end, and they saluted him as they were wont to do.

He went up to them and said, with a terrible effort at calm: "Do I look different today? Is there anything a little, well, unusual about my appearance?"

One of them was a big scaly reptilian fellow with fanged jaws that did not permit light conversation; nonetheless, he rumbled and shook his head No. The other guard blinked his small red eves thoughtfully, and said: "You've trimmed your beard, my lord?"

"Thank you," said Ermenwyr, "I just wondered if anyone would notice. Where is my father?"

The guards bowed deeply and the one said, "Your lord father is in the exercise yard, sir."

Ermenwyr set off at a run.

He found Shadlek his father armed, raining blows on his practice opponent. Ermenwyr waited on the sidelines, fidgeting, until the bout was concluded. As Shadlek stood back and removed his helmet, Ermenwyr hurried up to him.

"Um.... Father?"

The Master of the Mountain looked down at his son, and knit his black brows in a frown.

"What have you done, Ermenwyr?" he said in a voice like thunder.

Ermenwyr cried out in relief and fear.

"You see it too? Oh, Father, what is it?"

Shadlek scowled and made a few pa.s.ses in the air with his gauntleted hand.

"It will not leave you. Did you steal something?"

"Only what you told me to!"

"Did you trespa.s.s in some sacred place?"

"Only where you bid me to!"

"Did you summon powers greater than your own?"

"No!"

"Then what crime did you commit other than the necessary crimes I sent you to commit?" said his father. "Tell me the truth, boy."

Shamefacedly Ermenwyr told his father about Desolation Rose, as they walked up and down the length of the exercise yard. Shadlek nodded thoughtfully.

"I did something like that once," he reminisced. "A wealthy man died and his wife went mad for grief.

She had his heart placed in a gold reliquary covered with red sapphires, very fine. She went out lamenting, to wander the world with it.

"Hearing of the sapphires, I went down in search of her. I found her inching along a road, barefoot and ragged, weeping for her love.

"I put a glamour on myself and appeared as her dead husband's ghost; persuaded her I could not rest until my heart, and its handsomely decorated container, was returned to me. She complied, with many touching avowals of eternal pa.s.sion. I sent her safely home."

Ermenwyr was curious despite himself. "What did you do then?"

"Burned the dead heart and kept the reliquary, of course. It's around here somewhere, I saw it only the other day..."

"Mother must have been angry with you," said Ermenwyr.

"Not at all," replied the sorcerer lord. "Consider, my son: the man's true heart dwelt in the bosom of the lady, beyond theft. It was not that lump of carrion, nor its house of gold. By relieving her of that macabre ornament I spared her the danger of carrying such a thing. She might have met with thieves, after all! So, no, your mother was not angry with me.

"But she'll certainly be angry with you. You did a stupid thing, boy: you impersonated a G.o.d, on the one night and in the one place it would be truly imprudent to do so. I thought I had trained you better!"

Ermenwyr said hastily: "Yes, sir, but surely the thing now is to relieve me of this condition with all possible speed. What's to be done?"

His father grinned down at him and dusted his hands.

"I have no idea. You must go to your mother and ask her advice. G.o.ds have never been my particular field of study."

"But she will reproach me," Ermenwyr said in a stricken voice.

"Even so." Shadlek nodded. "Run along now, my child."

Miserably Ermenwyr went to his mother's bower. It was peaceful there; white rosemary flowered thick, bees droned in the still air. Inside, the sunlight filtered soft through the white flower petals: a place of utter calm, though Ermenwyr was far from tranquil as he beheld his lady mother.

The Saint knelt at her writing desk, composing a letter to her disciples. Her youngest grandchild slept near her in a willow basket.

Ermenwyr wondered nervously whether the baby was one of his. "H'em! Mother," he said, kneeling for her blessing.

"My child," she responded, placing her hand on his head. She sighed, and when he looked up he saw she was sadly regarding him. She knew exactly what was wrong with him and how he'd got that way, too. There was no fooling her.

"Oh, my son, you have done another wicked thing."

"Yes, Mother, I'm afraid so," Ermenwyr said meekly.

"I did not form a child with no heart in my womb, I know; how are you so cold and faithless? Now your behavior has set a wrathful G.o.d on your back."

"What has this G.o.d got to be angry about, anyway?" muttered Ermenwyr. "I was good to the poor girl. I gave her a pleasant night and ever so much money!"

"That is not the point," said the Saint. "You mocked her in your heart, which was cruel. But you have paid for it, my darling, and this time it's more than your father or I can mend. The girl opened a door to let in a G.o.d. You stood in that doorway and so the G.o.d moves through you, and all against your will you must do his Will."

Ermenwyr tugged at his beard in panic. "But what must I do to be free?" he cried. The baby woke up and began to wail. The Saint hushed and comforted it.

"Make reparation to that poor girl. She gave her body to the G.o.d in good faith; he intends to give her something in return. You must find out what it is, and bring it to her. Only then will the G.o.d leave you."

"But how will I know what the G.o.d wants?" Ermenwyr pleaded.

"You could break the habit of a lifetime and pray," said his mother. "Even your father prays, when it suits his purpose. No, don't look at me like that, with your eyes popping out of your head. You don't have a headache."

"Yes, I do!" wept Ermenwyr, but he hid his face in his hands.

"You're a sorcerer," the Saint reminded him. "Do a casting, if you can't bring yourself to meditate.

My child, what will become of you? With all the disciplines to which you have applied yourself...."

You can imagine the rest. Covered in gloom, psychic as well as spiritual, Ermenwyr went to his study and prepared. In the magic mirrors, in the seeing spheres, in the curved surfaces of the retorts and alembics, the G.o.d's reflection glared thunderous.

Ermenwyr lit candles. He cast spells. The room filled with unearthly blue light.

The light emanated from three objects, in a corner of the casting chamber. Ermenwyr peered through the brilliance to see what they were, and cried out in real pain.

Desolation Rose of the Aronikai sat watching storm clouds cross the sky.

She heard a cry from the gate; Ermenwyr standing there with a bundle in his arms.

She scrambled down, over missing bricks, and ran to let him in. The rain hadn't helped the gate.

When at last he was inside and had caught his breath, Ermenwyr said: "I suppose you didn't expect to see me again. But, as it happens, I've got something to deliver.

"On Winter's Eve, as I slept, a G.o.d appeared to me. He said: 'Go thou, dig beneath the first black stone that thou findest in thy path. Take what thou shalt find there under to Desolation Rose of the Aronikai, for she has pleased me.'

"I rose and went out and dug beneath the first black stone I saw and, would you believe it, there was an ancient chest with some things in it-" Ermenwyr set down and unwrapped his bundle, "which I thought I had better bring you -"

Desolation Rose looked on in wonder as he took out a small sword, a crystal pendant on a chain, and a flask of white gla.s.s. Ermenwyr held up the sword.

"This sword," he said, "is magical. It brings the strength of five warriors to its wielder."

He gave her the sword and took up the pendant.

"This pendant," he said, "is also magical. It wards off danger and brings wealth to its wearer."

He gave her the pendant and held up the flask.

"This flask," he said, "as you might have guessed, is magical too. The inexhaustible cordial within has great healing powers."

Desolation Rose took the flask, crying: "But how do you know these things?"

"I'm a sorcerer, after all," said Ermenwyr in some irritation. "I can vouch for their puissance."

Which was certainly true, for he himself had crafted them, with many hours of painstaking labor. He had been particularly proud of them, too.

Desolation Rose swept the sword through the air. It balanced to her hand as if it had been made for her (which it had not been).

"I gave myself to the G.o.d, as I said I'd do. Did you know that, sorcerer? And I doubted him, afterward."

"Never doubt the G.o.d," said Ermenwyr, solemn as a high priest. "He honors bargains."

Desolation Rose arranged the gifts on the cracked pavement and looked at them.

"With these things, all the fortunes of my house will be restored," she said. "Now our enemies may tremble. Great is the G.o.d, blessed is his name!"

"Amen!" said Ermenwyr ruefully.

Desolation Rose took up the gifts and went running in to see what the cordial could do for her uncle.

After that Desolation Rose became Fire Rose, the Fire Rose of the songs, and of course the story is well known how she avenged her family, brought her enemies to ignominious and horrible ends, and served her G.o.d bravely through many glorious adventures.

But Ermenwyr went back to his father's house; and the first thing he did there was look in his mirror.

There he stood, himself and no other. So great was his joy and his relief that he hurried off and tumbled one of the housemaids.

Ermenwyr was thenceforth prudent, and never again impersonated a G.o.d; save once at a costume ball in Troon, when he seduced the vice-regent's sister. But she knew perfectly well who was under the mask....