The Commanding Stone Part 30

"I don't believe you."

"It is irrelevant what you believe. I have told you the truth."

"How could the Adversary harm the world if what you said was true?"

"Because he is binding himself to the mortal sphere as I have, though his power is greater than mine to a degree that you cannot fathom. He is a wholly different being from me and my kin. But still there are laws that he cannot break. He cannot act upon Creation itself from outside of it. That is why he is manifesting himself here, within the world of mortals, so that he can be freed from those restrictions. Free to use his power to warp the will of the Maker. Unlike me, he is placing all of his power here-a danger for him, but it is the only way to accomplish his goal."

"You said there are laws that govern Creation, but my father has long thought that Creation is broken, as do I. That the laws of which you speak have already been thrown down."

"It is flawed and bent from the original intent of the Maker by the will of the Adversary, but only to a small degree."

"Can it ever be made right? Can the world be healed of its ills?" Can I ever be healed? No, no. There is no hope for me. Gerin saw me as I truly am and fled!

"It cannot be healed in the way you are thinking. There will always be pain and suffering. There must be. Mortals must have something to strive against. It is for you to make the world a better place from within, not the divine to do so from without."

She rubbed her temples. There was a storm once more in her mind. So many thoughts, swirling- "Tell me what you meant when you told Gerin that even a prophet may not understand everything he is shown. What did you mean?"

"Those words were not for you or your father."

"I don't believe you." A quiet resolve had come over her. "You're not who you say you are. You've refused to help us, sowed doubts in our minds about my father's place as the Prophet. A servant of the One G.o.d would never do such things."

She slipped the knife from the pocket in her skirt and plunged it into Zaephos's chest, driving it in to the hilt. He looked up at her, his eyes wide.

"You're a servant of the Adversary. I know it in my heart."

He coughed a mist of blood. She felt the hot, coppery warmth of it on her face and neck, and wiped it with her hands.

He slid from the bench, the knife still in his chest. His body convulsed, flopping like a fish tossed into the bottom of a boat. Blood poured from his mouth, a dark river of it washing across the flagstones, rushing toward her feet.

Elaysen stepped around the widening pool of blood, knelt, and watched the life leave his eyes as he took a final, shuddering breath.

Then she stood, hands trembling. Filled with sudden horror at what she had done, she fled the garden, weeping, and wondering if she had made a terrible mistake.

33.

Gerin was about to stretch out on a cot in one of the lower rooms of the gate tower for some much needed sleep when he felt a presence in the room. He turned his head and saw Zaephos standing in the corner, hands clasped in front of him, head bowed.

Gerin propped himself up on his elbows. Zaephos raised his head and stared blankly at a bare spot on the wall above Gerin's head. The messenger's mouth moved but no sound emerged. It was an eerie, unnerving sight.

"Zaephos, what's wrong?" Gerin sat up completely. He realized then that Zaephos was not physically present in the room. He could see the wall through the messenger's immaterial form. "What's happened?"

"Elaysen has slain my mortal body." The words were so faint as to be nearly inaudible, and did not match the movement of his lips.

"What?" He was on his feet. "Why would she do such a thing?"

"She believes I serve the Adversary. She is wrong, but her thoughts are unclear."

Gerin ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to think or say. Elaysen had killed Zaephos? It made no sense. Why would she believe he served their enemy?

"I must go," said Zaephos. "It will be some time before I return to you again."

"Wait!"

But it was too late. Zaephos's form had vanished.

"Shayphim take me, what has she done?" Gerin muttered as he rushed from the room.

Balandrick was asleep in a room across the hall. Gerin shook his shoulder; the captain jerked awake, startled, and reached for his knife.

"Balan, calm down. It's me."

Balandrick blinked several times, then wiped his eyes. "Sorry, Your Majesty. I just drifted off a little while ago."

"I'm sorry to wake you. This isn't about the Havalqa." He told Balan what had happened with Zaephos. "I need you to help me look for her. I'm afraid she might try to hurt someone else, or perhaps herself."

Balandrick shook his head in dismay. "I can't imagine her harming anyone. She must truly be in a bad way."

"That's what scares me."

They made their way toward the dormitory where Gerin had left Elaysen earlier. He felt certain she was no longer there, but it was at least a place to start.

They found a servant who was frantic over Elaysen's disappearance. "I left her for just a little while to get her some food because that ninny Rella dawdled with her ch.o.r.es, blast her soul. She was gone when I came back. I've been looking everywhere."

"If you find her, get her to her room and make her stay there," said Gerin. "I don't care if you have to lock her in and sit on her."

He sent Balan to look through one of the nearby gardens while he returned to the Varsae Sandrova. He ran through the floors, frantic, asking anyone he came across if they'd seen her, but no one had. Filled with fury-though he was not sure exactly why he was furious, or at whom, which only served to anger him more-he left the library and went in search of Balandrick.

He was nearing the woman's dormitory when he saw Balan appear in the darkness. Elaysen was with him. He had his arm around her shoulders. She looked dazed, her eyes vacant. There was blood on her tunic and smeared across her face and hands.

"I found her wandering in one of the gardens," said Balan. There was a deep worry in his voice. "She barely acknowledged me."

Gerin gripped the sides of her head and looked into her eyes. "Elaysen, can you hear me? What happened with Zaephos?"

She blinked several times before finally focusing on him. Her face twisted into a rictus of horror. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Oh, oh, oh! Please, no! Don't see me like this! Not like this!" She tried to pull away from them both, but neither of them released her.

"Elaysen! Calm yourself! What happened to Zaephos?" He realized he was shouting and lowered his voice. "What did you do?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would somehow make them go away. "I killed him," she sobbed. "I thought he was our enemy, but now I don't know...I'm so confused. I need my medicines..."

"Let's get her to her rooms," he said to Balandrick. Elaysen was weeping, but allowed herself to be led to the dormitory.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she said as they made their way up the stairs. The servant woman they'd seen earlier saw them in the corridor and rushed to them.

"By the G.o.ds, there she is." The woman gasped and covered her mouth. "She's covered with blood!"

"It's not hers," said Gerin. "But she needs to be washed."

The woman nodded. "I'll get water."

Balan placed Elaysen on her bed. His face was filled with concern.

Gerin sat on the bed and held her hand. She squeezed it tightly, as if she feared to drown if she let go.

"I'm sorry," she said again. She had calmed a little, though she would not look at him. "I don't understand anything anymore. I never wanted you to see me like this, to know how broken I was. I need medicines to control these storms that sweep through my mind. I can't control it. My medicines gave me a normal life, but when they were destroyed near the Watchtowers, everything started to fall apart." She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I am so in love with you, and I know you can't love me back because you're a king and I can offer you nothing as a wife, and now you know the awful truth about me..." She began to cry again, softly this time. She turned her head away from him and covered her eyes with her free hand.

"And then I see how you look at that Threndish wh.o.r.e and I just want to put a knife in her heart."

"Elaysen, no more talk of violence," Gerin said. "You've done enough."

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry."

The servant returned with a basin of water and several towels and began to wash her face and hands.

"You need to eat something," he said.

She shook her head. "I'm not hungry. I don't want anything."

He decided not to argue with her. "I'm going to make you sleep now. We'll talk more later."

She nodded, still not looking at him. He drew magic into himself and created the same spell he'd used earlier, only he made this one stronger. Immediately, she slipped into a deep sleep.

"Do not let her leave this room," Gerin said to the woman. "And make sure she eats when she wakens."

The woman nodded, abashed. "Yes, my lord. I'm sorry, I-"

"I'm not interested in your excuses. Just see that you do what I said."

Gerin descended the stairs so quickly that Balandrick had to run to keep up.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Balan asked.

"No, there's not."

"Are you angry with her, Your Majesty?"

Gerin stopped at the bottom of the stairs and spun about to face his captain. Balan's face was lost in shadows; the magefire sconces were behind him, so it seemed his head and shoulders were outlined with a halo of light.

Yes, he was angry; no, he was furious, even more so than in the library. He'd been unsure then of the object of his fury, but Balandrick was right-he was angry at Elaysen. Part of him knew he had no right to be, that she was suffering greatly and had been for some time. That these "storms" in her mind were beyond her ability to control.

But he could not help himself. She had killed Zaephos, and as maddening as the messenger of the One G.o.d often proved to be, he was nevertheless the only direct link they had to the world of the divine and, perhaps, the intentions of the One G.o.d toward both the world and him.

He also felt betrayed by her, that she had felt a need to conceal something so important as her illness from him. Had she not trusted him? Had she thought he wouldn't understand? He realized she did not want to appear "damaged" to him, but after her medicines were destroyed, why not confide in him? Why not trust him to try to help?

He did not know what to make of her proclamation of love for him, and her disparaging comments about Nyene. Were they the true feelings of her heart, or was it her illness speaking, corrupting her words, twisting them in unimaginable ways?

How could he ever trust her again?

34.

What will you do next, Ezqedir?" asked Tolsadri as he glanced around the general's tent with distaste. "You've succeeded so far in sending Loremasters to their deaths. Is this how you conduct yourself in a time of war? The Exalted will be very interested to hear about this campaign. I must admit, your strategy befuddles me."

"Then you will remain befuddled, Tolsadri," said Ezqedir with a practiced, offhand casualness. He was seated at his small desk, pretending to study a number of papers so he would appear to be ignoring the Voice. "I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself, any more than your desire to explain your many successful negotiations to me."

The Voice focused on the general. "You will refer to me by my t.i.tle, Ezqedir. I will see that decorum is followed. And you may not choose to explain yourself to me, but you will have to make an accounting with the Exalted."

"I'll refer to you by t.i.tle when you use mine, Tolsadri." He still did not look up from his papers, as if the Voice were not important enough to warrant his full attention. "I simply follow your lead in matters of decorum. As for explaining myself to the Exalted, I am relishing my return to Kalmanyikul when this campaign is concluded so I can personally tell her of our triumph here and deliver the Words of Making to her from my hand."

Ezqedir set down the paper he was holding and deigned to regard the Voice for the first time since the Loremaster had entered the tent.

"As for sending your Loremasters to their deaths, I a.s.sure you it was not needless, and the sacrifice of a few followers of Bariq was an acceptable loss, considering what I learned in return.

"Now, I have a siege to prepare. If you have nothing of substance to add to this conversation, or vital information to convey, you may go."

Tolsadri drew a hissing breath. "One such as you does not dismiss me!"

"In that you are wrong. It seems this campaign will provide many new experiences for you, Tolsadri. Leave, or I'll have you removed. And please do not bore me with threats of how you will tattle to the Exalted. I a.s.sure you, I'm not afraid of anything you might say to her. I've heard you've already fallen far in her eyes."

Tolsadri's face flashed with murderous anger. Without another word, he turned and left the tent.

"The Powers guide me, but would we all not be better off without that man?" Ezqedir muttered to himself.

He called his Elqosi and donned his armor. Once properly attired, he stepped outside. The day was clear and bright, the air still.

Ezqedir watched as the siege engines were moved into position. Four trebuchets were being arrayed across the face of the valley; more would follow. Once in place, he would begin to pound the defensive wall that sealed the mouth of the valley.

He had no idea what power the wizards would bring to bear on the weapons. He did not expect them to last long before being destroyed. They were faced with animal hides and soaked with water to prevent them from being set aflame, but those were defenses for a normal siege, not one such as this, where unseen powers would clash for supremacy.

But still, this was a siege, and certain conventions had to be followed. Four hundred hors.e.m.e.n and an equal number of infantry followed behind the slow-moving engines. A token number, but he was not willing to sacrifice more men in what would essentially be an empty gesture. The a.s.sault would provide some other advantages-it was not wholly without merit, or he would not have ordered it, conventions or not. He hoped to learn more about the defenses of the fortress, as well as provide a diversion for the Loh'shree. He wanted the wizards' attention fixed firmly on the siege engines and not the encampment.

In their part of the camp, the Loh'shree had begun their work. Ezqedir used his seeing-gla.s.s to watch the strange beings as they dug a series of concentric and overlapping circles in the earth. The first was about twenty feet in diameter; an unlit brazier had been placed at its center. The next circle was twice as wide. Others of similar diameter intersected the central circles by varying degrees.