They sat and talked for a while, then the young maid came for Ballistar and Sigarni smiled at the look of sudden panic that flashed across his handsome face. 'Go,' she said, 'enjoy yourself.'
Alone now, she sipped the water and concentrated on the magical events that had overtaken them in Yur-vale. Three separate bursts of magic: the growth of Ballistar, the sprouting of the bow and the rebirth of Ironhand. The dwarf had become a man, strong and straight. Why? And why the bow, and not the arrows? She had tried to discuss it with Ballistar, but he had merely shrugged and said, 'It was magic. Who cares why?'
But there must be laws governing magic, she thought. Ironhand had been reborn through a piece of dried bone. But what of the bone tips on her arrows? Why had they not grown into deer? And the leather of her belt or boots - why had these items remained intact?
Taliesen had warned that this was a world of strong magic, and that it would affect them far more than the inhabitants of Yur-vale. What had he said about his fellow sorcerer? He had eaten pork and it had swelled inside him? Sigarni shuddered. Like the bone of Ironhand, the flesh had reconstituted itself in his belly and he had been ripped to pieces from within by a live and panic-stricken boar.
Reaching for the water goblet, she winced as the cold metal edge pushed at the still healing cut on her palm.
And instantly she had the answer. On the night before the journey she had held Ironhand's bone. On the journey itself through the Gateway she had gripped Ballistar's hand.
My blood touched them. The bow also - but not the arrows!
Sigarni rose from her seat and walked upstairs to her room. The bed was deep and soft, but she did not sleep for several hours. When she awoke Ironhand was sitting beside the bed.
'I hope your dreams were good ones,' he said. 'I had none that I can recall," she told him. 'You?'
'I didn't sleep a wink,' he said with a grin. 'But I could eat a horse.' 'That would not be advisable. The horse would eat you.' He looked at her quizzically and she explained about Taliesen's warning. 'Well, then, we had better find the Crown and head back to the Highlands. I want to taste a good steak again, and smell the pines.' 'First we must find the palace, or wherever it is that the King resides.'
'You think he will just give you a national treasure?'
'We'll see.'
*
The King stared from the window of his eighth-floor study, and watched as the enemy siege engines slowly approached the city's north wall. There were seven of them, each around eighty feet high, clad in sheets of hammered iron and impervious to flame arrows. When they reached the walls, which they would within the hour, the fighting would be hard. Close to the wall the towers would lower their drawbridges, and fighting men would pour out on to the ramparts.
His Guards would meet them, blade to blade, hacking and slaying, buying time for the engineers to hurl fire bombs through the apertures. The iron cladding outside would offer no protection to the scores of men waiting on the siege tower stairs.
You are coming to your doom, he told himself. He glanced to his left, where his ceremonial armour was laid out on a bench of oak. You are getting too old to fight, he thought. And what will happen to Zir-vak when you fall in battle? Neither of his sons had yet reached one hundred - and even if they had, he thought with regret, they could not shoulder the responsibilities of command. Perhaps I have been too easy on them.
Stepping back from the window he moved to his desk, lifting a bronze-rimmed oval mirror. The face that peered back at him was grey with fatigue, the eyes dull. Dropping the mirror, he picked up the letter that had arrived the previous evening from the merchant Yos-shiel. Three strangers had come to the city, intent on stealing the Paradise Helm. They would find a fine surprise waiting for them!
A servant entered the room and bowed deeply. 'Majesty, there is a woman who wishes to see you.'
'Tell her I have no time today. Let her make her entreaty to Pasan-Yol!'
'With respect, Majesty, I feel you may wish to speak with the woman. She says she wishes to see you in connection with the Paradise Helm - and she matches the description you gave to the soldiers.'
The King turned. 'Is she alone?'
'No, her companions are with her, Majesty - a white-haired giant and a young man.'
'Are they armed?'
'They gave their weapons to the Royal Sentries.'
Intrigued, the King moved to his desk. 'Show them in - and fetch Pasan-Yol.'
Bowing once more, the servant departed.
As Yos-shiel had reported, the woman was very beautiful, and moved with a grace that stirred the King's blood. 'I understand you claim to be from another land,' he said. 'Where might that be?'
'I could not say where in relation to Yur-vale,' she told him, her voice deep, almost husky. 'We were sent through a magical Gateway.'
The King picked up the letter. 'So Yos-shiel tells me. I must say I find it hard to believe. Could it be that you are spies, sent by the enemy?'
A squad of guards moved in behind the newcomers, 'You wish them arrested, Majesty?' asked Pasan-
Yol.
'Not yet,' the King told the young guardsman. 'They interest me. So tell me, woman, why you are here.'
'To bring back the sun,' she said. The silence in the room grew as the listeners took in her words.
'You are a witch?' asked the King.
'I am.'
'Sorcery has long been considered a crime here, punishable by death.'
The woman smiled. 'Whereas stupidity has obviously not. Do you wish to see the sun shine over Yur-vale?'
The King leaned back in his chair. 'Let us suppose - merely for the sake of argument - that you could achieve this ... this miracle. What do you desire in return?'
'I think the letter from Yos-shiel will answer that,' she told him.
'You know of that - and yet you come here? Was that wise, witch?'
She shrugged. 'The wisdom of any course can only be judged by the outcome. I offer you the sun for a piece of metal. You make whatever choice seems fitting.'
'What do you think, Pasan?' asked the King.
The young guardsman gave a derisory laugh. 'I think they are spies, Father. Let me interrogate them.'
'Yet another numbskull,' said Ironhand to Sigarni, in the same tone of voice. 'You think they are all victims of in-breeding?' The guardsman's sword snaked from its scabbard. 'Put it away, boy,' said Ironhand, 'before I take it away from you and swat your backside.' The guardsman took a deep breath and dropped into a fighting position with sword extended.
'That's enough!' said the King.'Put up your blade, Pasan!'
'You heard what he said, Father!'
'Aye, I did,' answered the King, wearily. 'So let us not be too swift to prove his point.'
'I think a little proofwould not go amiss,' put in Sigarni to the King. 'Do you have a garden here?'
'Nothing grows in Zir-vak,' he said. 'But, yes, there was a garden. I do not go there now, for the sight of it saddens me."
'Take me there,' she said, 'and I will show you something to lift your heart.'
The King stood and moved to the window, where the siege towers were inching ever closer. He swung back to the woman. 'Very well, I will humour you. But know this, if there is no miracle I shall not be best pleased - and the charge of sorcery will be laid against you.'
'If there is no miracle,' said the woman, 'then the charge will be hard to prove.'
For the first time the King smiled. 'Let us go to the garden,' he said.
*
The garden was more than two hundred feet long, and had been designed around a series of winding white-paved pathways. There were three fountains, none of them in use, and the flower-beds were covered with thick grey ash. Scores of dead trees lined the marble walls at the outer edges of the garden, and the area was devoid of any life.