Anger filled me to bursting, fed by the soul-shredding dissonance of the perverted magic, fed by the blood-thirst that raged in me and my horror at my deeds of this day and their unyielding necessity. "Every artifact you create is connected to every other, D'Sanya. Each ring and pendant, each lock and statue and slip of metal that you place in walls and floors and doors is imbued with your power. Some objects focus power. Some devour it. Some pieces are of your own design. Some are of the Lords' contrivance. But you are the Metalwright, and your magic binds them to you and to each other as L'Clavor taught you, All of them, am I right? So that you can make larger workings than each device would support."
She retreated until her back rested against the fallen lion. Her expression of confusion infuriated me. "Yes, but I don't know—"
"You didn't have enough power for all your good works, did you? And so you made the orbs and put them here, and then you worked some magic to link them, and thus all of your devices, to the Bridge itself—the artifact of your father's power to which you believed you had a right. You've drained its power for your own uses."
"I did no such thing. How could I? The lion . . . the orbs . . . are to glorify him, so that none who come here forget who made all this. I am my father's Heir, and I bear the power he gave me. Of course I have the right to walk the Bridge and to maintain it as he taught us.
But I would never use it for myself. I wouldn't know how to do that." She knelt on the floor and scooped up the golden ball. Her mail shirt was streaked with blood, her trousers stained with mud and soot. "How dare you touch these things?"
"You made the oculus and the avantir, knowing full well they were artifacts of Zhev'Na, designed by the Lords. As you used the Bridge to feed your own power, you empowered those devices as well. D'Sanya, you've linked the Bridge to the Lords' devices. That's how the Zhid have risen. That's why the enchantments of this world crack my skull, why they twist back upon themselves and go awry."
"Designs cannot be evil." Her denial was weaker now. "I had so much work to do. To heal the things they did. The things they made me do . . ."
Feeling her soften, I pressed on less brutally. I had to learn what kind of link she had forged. "I read my father's history of the Dar'Nethi, about their joy, their kindness, their grace even after such horrors as the Catastrophe in Gondai and the Extermination in the mundane world, about their largeness of mind and heart and their willingness to build the Bridge and suffer this war to keep the universe in balance, to shield the mundane world from the Lords. You told me of your father's strength, his courage, his love and good humor in the most terrible of times. But what do we see now? This passionate hatred of those who were Zhid, whose restoration once caused purest rejoicing. The suspicion and mistrust of those who were slaves—unthinkable a year ago or ten centuries ago. Look anywhere in Gondai and you'll find fear, jealousy, despair, madness even to murder, people abandoning the Way that has sustained them for centuries. And the worst of it has happened since your return, so subtle, so pervasive, the Dar'Nethi themselves cannot see or feel their change … because you've tainted the foundation . . . the Bridge itself."
She set the golden ball carefully back on the floor and wrapped her arms about her middle. Her radiant skin had gone gray in the morbid light. Her extraordinary eyes seemed the size of my palms. Perhaps she was beginning to understand what her willful blindness had caused … so I wouldn't have to force her to the next step. Earth and sky, how I had loved her. "You have to stop it now, D'Sanya. Break this link so we can undo what you've done. Please, you must—"
Her dagger struck me in the left shoulder. My wards had triggered a warning and made me twist at the last moment or it would have pierced my heart. I staggered backward, fighting to breathe through the pain, through the enchantments that flooded my chest and limbs and caused the muscles to spasm uncontrollably. As I yanked the enchanted weapon from my shoulder, the room began to spin lazily, the air thick and glassy like cold honey.
"You are wrong, Destroyer. You are the being who poisons Gondai. I'll prove it. But I'll take your suggestion. I'll walk the Bridge and draw upon my father's magic to save Avonar. I'll destroy you before you and your demon Zhid destroy the world." She adjusted her belt where the empty sheath hung. Then, in a flash of silver mail and golden hair, she vanished beyond the Gate fire.
I fell back against the wall of the Chamber of the Gate, fighting for clarity, commanding my body to obey my will. Can't let go now. Too much to do .
I had joined the Zhid assault on Avonar in hopes that I could live long enough to bring D'Sanya to the Bridge and force her to repair what she had done. If I could break her link to the Bridge, perhaps I could end the war for good. But I wished fervently that some other Dar'Nethi could see what was happening. Why couldn't they feel it?
Fighting to control the painful spasms that wracked my limbs and heart and back, I pushed away from the wall and staggered toward the fallen statue. I worried about what D'Sanya might be doing on the Bridge, but first things first. If fortune was kind, I could cut off the flow of power to the avantir within the hour.
A quick probe revealed that the lion itself was magically inert, so I would need to destroy only the orbs. I was grateful for that.
First, consider the need . No difficulty there.
Second … I used the bloody dagger to draw a circle around the golden orb. My blood was the only possession I had available to assert ownership.
By the time I had shattered the two orbs, my hopes of a quick resolution were demolished as well. Woozy, nauseated, I knelt on the blood-marked floor, ripped a wad of cloth from my cloak, and pressed it to my bleeding shoulder, strapping my belt around to hold it in place. Nothing had changed. The Gate fire still pounded and thrummed, making my teeth ache, my bones ache, my soul ache. The fading light in the chamber was not some visual consequence of my injury, but a further discoloration of D'Arnath's enchantment . . . now a sooty gray. One test to be sure . . .
Felgir ! I called.
Master? Where —?
Maintain the assault according to plan. Gensei Kovrack is field commander for the present.
As you command, Lord Dieste.
No question. No hesitation. The avantir yet held. So I had accomplished nothing. I wanted to scream.
I threw D'Sanya's knife to the floor and tried to take a full breath without passing out.
"Are you mad?" The door crashed open and Prince Ven'Dar strode into the room, his fury surrounding him like an army. But his only companion was a bedraggled Jen, wet hair sticking up, dark eyes wary, darting between the prince and me.
"D'Sanya has damaged the Bridge," I said, as I rose to my feet amid the gold and silver shards. "She's been drawing its power through the lion and the oculus and her other artifacts, linking it to the Lords' devices. I just don't know how. We must—"
"You've destroyed Avonar! Zhid are in the citadel. Dar'Nethi are dying." Ven'Dar held folded hands in front of his breast, as if in pleading or prayer, but I was not fooled. A Word Winder's hand could move quicker than lightning, and the former Prince of Avonar's cast would not be gentle.
I extended my own hands in front of me, pale flames flickering eagerly from my fingers so he would not mistake the blood on my shirt for a sign of weakness. "I've blunted the Zhid attack as best I could, Ven'Dar, and we've no time to discuss how I might have done that better or differently. I took away D'Sanya's jewelry and destroyed the magic of this lion, but I must have missed something else. She's on the Bridge, saying she's going to draw on its power to stop the attack. We must stop her."