“Yes,” said the Keeper of the Soul. “He will come back.”
32
Guided by the Keeper of the Door, Hugh carried Iridal through the halls of the cathedral, down to the lower levels, where the rooms allocated to the weesham were located. The Door opened two of the rooms, located side by side. Food, consisting of bread and fruit, and a small pitcher of water had been placed on a table in each.
“The doors seal themselves once they are closed,” the elf said apologetically.
“Please do not be offended. We do this with our own people, not out of lack of trust, but in order that the quiet and peace of the cathedral may be maintained. No one is permitted to walk the halls except myself or my assistants, the Keeper of the Book, and the Keeper of the Soul.”
“We understand. Thanks,” said Hugh.
He carried Iridal inside, placed her upon the bed. She caught hold of his hand as he was about to withdraw.
“Please don’t go yet, Hugh. Please stay and talk to me. Just a moment.” Hugh’s expression was dark. He glanced at the Kenkari, who lowered his eyes, nodded gently.
“I will leave you to enjoy your repast in private. When you are ready to go to your own room, you have but to ring the small silver bell there, by the bed, and I will return to escort you.”
The Keeper, bowing, withdrew.
“Sit down,” Iridal urged, holding fast to Hugh’s hand.
“I’m very tired, Lady,” he said, avoiding looking at her. “We’ll talk in the morning—”
“We must talk now.” Iridal rose to her feet, stood in front of him. Reaching up, she touched his face with her fingers. “Don’t do this, Hugh. Don’t make this terrible bargain.”
“I have to,” he said gruffly, jaw clenched against her soft touch, eyes anywhere but on her. “There’s no other way.”
“Yes, there is. There has to be. The Kenkari want peace as much as we do. Maybe more. You saw them, heard them. They’re afraid, Hugh, afraid of the emperor. We’ll talk to them, make some other arrangement. Then we’ll rescue Bane and I’ll help you find Alfred, as I promised—”
“No,” said Hugh. Catching hold of her wrist, he forced her hand away from him. And now he looked at her. “No, it’s better this way.”
“Hugh!” Iridal faltered, cheeks stained crimson, wet with her tears. “Hugh, I love you!”
“Do you?” Hugh regarded her with a grim, sardonic smile. He held up his right hand, held it palm out. “Look, look at the scar. No, don’t turn your head. Look at it, Iridal. Imagine my hand caressing your soft flesh. What would you feel? My loving touch? Or this scar?”
Iridal lowered her eyes, lowered her head.
“You don’t love me, Iridal,” Hugh said, sighing. “You love a part of me.” She raised her head, answered him fiercely. “I love the best part!”
“Then let that part go.”
Iridal shook her head, but she said nothing more, made no further argument.
“Your son. He’s the one that matters to you, Lady. You have a chance to save him. Not me. My soul was lost a long time ago.”
Turning away from him, Iridal sank down on the bed, stared at her hands, clasped in her lap.
She knows I’m right, but she doesn’t want to accept it, Hugh decided. She’s still fighting against it, but her resistance is weakening. She’s a rational woman, not a lovesick girl. By morning, when she’s thought about it, she’ll go along with it.
“Good night, Lady.”
Hugh reached down, rang the small silver bell.
Hugh had judged Iridal correctly, or at least so he supposed. By morning, her tears were dry. She was calm, met Hugh with a quiet smile of reassurance and the whispered words, “You may count on me. I won’t fail you.”
“You won’t fail your son,” he corrected her.
She smiled for him again, let him think that was what was important to her. And it was, certainly. Bane would be her redemption, hers and Sinistrad’s. All the evil both parents had done—his by commission, hers by omission—would be expurgated by their child. But this was only one factor in her decision to appear to go along with Hugh.
Last night, before she slept, Iridal remembered again the silent counsel of that Immortal voice. What or whose, she couldn’t understand, for she had never believed in any Almighty power.
The man who was dead and who is not dead.
Hugh was meant to be here, she realized. I will take this as a hopeful sign and trust that all will be for the best.
And so Iridal no longer argued against the sacrifice. She had convinced herself that the sacrifice would never take place.
She and Hugh met later in the day with the three Keepers, Book, Door, and Soul, in the small chapel room of the Aviary.
“We do not know if you have yet devised a plan for entering the Imperanon,” the Keeper of the Soul began, with a deprecating glance at Hugh. “If not, we have some ideas.”
The Hand shook his head, indicated that he would be interested to hear what the Keeper had in mind.
“Will you go, Magicka?” the Soul asked Iridal. “The risk is very great. Should the emperor capture a human of your talent—”
“I will go,” Iridal interrupted. “The boy is my son.”
“We assumed that such would be the case. If all goes according to plan, the danger should be minimal. You will enter the palace very late, when most will be sleeping heavily.
“His Imperial Majesty is giving a party this night, as he does every night, but this one is to celebrate the anniversary of elven unification. Everyone living in the Imperanon will be expected to attend and many are coming from far parts of the kingdom. The celebration will last a considerable length of time and there will be much coming and going and contusion in the castle.
“You will make your way to your son’s room, remove the child, bring him back here. He will be quite safe in the cathedral, I assure you, madam,” the Soul added. “Even if the emperor should discover the boy were here, Agah’ran would not dare order an attack on the sacred precinct. His own soldiers would rebel against such a command.”
“I understand,” Iridal replied.
Hugh, sucking on the cold pipe, nodded his approval.
The Keeper appeared pleased. “We will provide you, Magicka, and your son, with safe transportation to your own lands. You, sir”—he bowed slightly in Hugh’s direction—“will remain here with us.”
Iridal pressed her lips firmly shut at this, made no comment.
“It all sounds easy enough,” said Hugh, removing the pipe, “but how do we get into the palace and back out again? The guards won’t be sleeping off gaiety and merriment.’ ”
The Keeper of the Soul shifted his gaze to the Keeper of the Door, turning over the remainder of the discussion to his subordinate.
The Door looked to Iridal. “We have heard it said, Magicka, that those humans of your arcane skill, Seventh House, have the gift of creating... shall we say... false impressions in the minds of others.”
“You mean illusion,” Iridal answered. “Yes, but there are certain restrictions. The one observing the illusion must want to believe it is true or expect it to be true. For example, I could create an illusion, right now, that would allow me to look just like this woman.” Iridal pointed to the Keeper of the Book. “But such an illusion would fail, simply because you would not believe it. Your mind would tell you that, logically, there could not be two of this woman in this room at the same time.”
“But if,” pursued Door, “you cast the illusion and I met you walking down the hall by yourself. I would be deluded into thinking you were my fellow Kenkari, would I not?”
“Yes. Then you would have little reason to doubt.”
“And I could stop and speak to you, touch you? You would seem real to me?”
“That would be dangerous. Even though I speak elven, the timbre and tone of my voice is necessarily human and might give me away. My gestures would be my own, not those of your friend. The longer you were around me, the greater the chances that I could no longer deceive you. However, I begin to see what you have in mind. And you are right. It might work. But only for me. I could appear to be an elf, and thus walk safely into the castle. But I cannot cast such a spell on Hugh.”