The light that illuminated the cave was slightly brighter here, as though it emanated from the silk itself. There were chairs, a mirror, other implements of human design. A bed of spun silk lay off in one corner. There was no suggestion of wood in its frame. It appeared to have been woven rather than built. He smelled freshly cooked food and his mind told him not to inquire into the nature of the ingredients.
Across the room sat a table. Various utensils decorated the top. Some were familiar to him, others not. A large hourglass squatted on the far side of the table. The old woman who sat there staring at him rested one hand atop the device. All the sand had collected in the bottom of the glass.
She didn't smile as she studied him. A finger tapped the side of the glass, marking thoughts as well as time. "I gave you the sand. You nearly used it all."
"I am not as sprightly as I once was and this body works not as well as the one I remember."
"None of us is young anymore."
He walked toward her. "Lyssa." Yes, it was she who shared name and more with the young woman betrothed to Colwyn. Age could not hide the resemblance.
What must she think of my appearance, he thought? Have I changed that much? From her stare he felt certain that he had.
None of us sees ourself true, he mused. It lies only in the power of others to do that. But I can see the past as well as the present in her eyes. She remembers. Whether that is good or ill we will soon know.
"I was young when I last heard that name."
He moved nearer, took a chair across the table from her. "I was young when last I spoke it to you."
"My face was as beautiful as my name then."
"More beautiful. You were renowned throughout the Fifty Kingdoms and men came even from across the seas to court you."
"None of them was suitable. Many were handsome, all were wealthy, others brave and valorous. But none was suitable. Only you were suitable, Ynyr, and you would not stay with me."
He did not turn away. This was not the time for turning away. But the memory was still painful. Let her take some solace from my pain, he thought. I too have suffered. Loneliness is a poor companion.
"I could not. You know that, Lyssa. There were many responsibilities, duties."
"Ambition," she said tightly.
"It had nothing to do with ambition. Perhaps I was too forceful at times in expressing my hopes for the future. Some might interpret that as ambition. But for myself I wished nothing." He smiled gently. "And as you can see by my appearance, that is precisely what I have gained. There were more important things to attend to. The fate of Krull was placed in my hands."
"Ambition," she reiterated stubbornly.
"Is it ambition that one should wish to see Krull restored to its rightful place? Is it ambition that makes me sorrow as I watch the Slayers ravage quiet towns and villages and murder for pleasure? Is it ambition that I should want to see men rule their own lives and determine their own destinies instead of leaving them to the whims of the Beast?''
"You make it sound so noble," she murmured. "So inevitable. As if you never had a choice." Her eyes flashed and beneath the age and the exhaustion and the bitterness there was a hint of the woman who had been. "You had a choice. Every man has a choice. As for me, I grew tired of waiting. I despaired of you, Ynyr."
"Great things can come to pass only if one exercises patience and caution."
"Love does not make room for patience and caution. It burns wild for an instant and if not captured, it dies."
"Do you think I don't know that? Do you think that while dreaming all my dreams and planning all my plans, I didn't think of that? Of you? My life has been as lonely as yours. Knowledge is little comfort on a cold night. I have lived a life as solitary as your own, without wife or children. You see, Lyssa, though I encountered many women from many lands who came to learn from me, you and I were too much alike. None of them was"—his smile twisted—"suitable."
She turned away from him. "You were not as alone as you believe. You had a son."
Here was the thing he'd feared most, the thing he had not prepared for, could not prepare for. No wonder her greeting had been so much harsher than he'd anticipated.
"You said nothing. You told me nothing. You let me leave in ignorance."
"I would not use such a thing to place a hold on you, Ynyr. There is no place in true love for such manipulation. I was alone when you left. I was alone!" She gestured weakly toward the woven bed.
"I killed him."
"You killed our son?"
"I killed him at birth. I was angry, mad with anger at you and what you'd done to me. I could not strike at you, so I struck at him. With him went the last vestige of my hope and my humanity." She gestured at the silken prison that enclosed them. "I know you cannot forgive me.
"This small room is my life now, my life and my punishment, and the web-spinner is my jailer. I am left only with wisdom I cannot use. Men come in hopes of stealing it. They leave the mouth of the cave in terror. Those who try to enter never leave at all."
She bent over the table. For the first time in many years, she cried, though whether the tears were for herself, for her slain son, or for what might have been, Ynyr could not say.
He reached out to her, touched her gently.
"I cannot forgive myself. I have already forgiven you. I did what I felt had to be done. .. but if I'd known it would cause you this life of pain…"
"It matters not. You cannot forgive a woman who has killed your son."
There was a small mirror nearby. The effort cost Ynyr some of his remaining strength, but he could feel the surge of love rising from deep within, reaching out to her.
"If I had not already forgiven you, Lyssa, how could I see you now as you were then?"
She changed as he stared, the wrinkles fading, the old Lyssa brought back momentarily through the power of love.
She looked at the glass, wiping at her eyes, and marveled at the image of the exquisite woman that lived for an instant in the shifting silica.
"You allow me to see back through time through your eyes. I had almost forgotten. I was beautiful, wasn't I?"
"Beyond compare." He fought to keep his emotions in check while holding the projection. "How could I have left you! Perhaps I deceived myself, perhaps I was afraid." The effort was too much. The mirror image rippled, became a true reflection of the woman gazing into its depths.
She reached across the table and for the first time her tone was comforting. "Poor Ynyr. You have suffered too, haven't you? You told the truth in that."
"I always told you the truth, Lyssa."
"And I would not let myself believe that anything could be more important than our lives together. Blindness and ambition. Fate has not been kind to us." She nodded at the mirror. "Your vision was a gift to me. I know what it has cost you and I thank you for it. My memory weakens with age. I too had forgotten much."
"Your vision can be a gift to me, Lyssa. You are the finest seer Krull has ever produced."
"That is why so many continue to seek me despite the depradations of my guardian, and why they would make use of my talent against my wishes."
"It is that and more that I seek to prevent, for there is another of power who is to be used against her will."
From anger to sorrow the widow's emotions changed to curiosity. "What can I see for you, Ynyr?"
"I need to know where the Black Fortress will rise tomorrow."
"Useless, dangerous knowledge."
"I need to know."
For a terrible instant he thought her old anger would overcome her again, but her voice stayed calm, her expression benign. "No. Time enough to dwell on half-forgotten dreams. Perhaps it is time for all dreams and furies to end. You still hope to work something against the Beast?" He nodded and she shook her head sadly.