“She pondered my offer, then affirmed her willingness to assist me. She did ask that I perform the temporary obscuration of her memory. To account for possession of my jewel, I proposed that she would remember it as a valuable gift received from a secret source, and that would safeguard it for the child’s coming of age (should it be a male), or betrothal gift (should it be a female). When that time came, her full memory of our bargain would return; she would present the jewel and its accompanying obligation to the child of her body and my mind.
“Upon her agreement, I expressed my profound gratitude, and at once commenced my initial incantations. To promote introspection and the development of a reflective nature, I set strictures to produce a child mute from birth, who should also be gifted with the insightful touch, allowing instant future recognition of my jewel, mind to mind.
“Know therefore, Child Who-is-to-come, that I, Elsenar, your father, implore you to hasten hither to free me. You must seek guidance to this place from your mother, the Lady Veronda of the Dales. . . .”
26
Mereth—events at Lormt
(21st Day, Month of the Ice Dragon/20th Day, Moon of the Knife)
At first, Elsenar’s mental voice totally dominated my senses, but gradually I recovered an overlapping awareness of my Lormt surroundings. I found that I could briefly lay the jewel aside while I wrote Elsenar’s words for Nolar to read aloud. I wished that the others in the room could “hear” the degree of urgency underlying Elsenar’s magical communication. Somehow I knew beyond any doubt that there could be no possibility of deceit in such a message. The emotional overtones were stark—Elsenar had been convinced that his sole hope for rescue depended upon the response of his enspelled plea.
I glanced up for an instant. Lormt’s party of listeners were thoroughly engrossed by Elsenar’s account of his unnatural incarceration. As I resumed my transcribing, Elsenar’s words “to produce a child mute from birth” echoed through my mind. I was gripped by an icy sense of foreboding. I forced my fingers to continue to wield my quill until two unbelievable phrases assailed me like the lash of a whip: “I, Elsenar your father,” and “your mother, the Lady Veronda of the Dales.”
Had I possessed a voice, I would have cried out in utter consternation. I did not feel the jewel drop from my nerveless fingers as a tide of darkness swelled within me, blotting out all sensations.
Afterwards, the others told me that quite abruptly, I seemed to stop breathing, and fell back against the pillows. While Jonja chafed my hands, Nolar fetched her nearby satchel and thrust a handful of crushed herbal leaves under my nose.
I was jolted from my swoon by a bracing, acrid scent that made me sneeze. As soon as I opened my eyes, I motioned for the press of figures to move away from my bedside so that I could orient myself and catch my breath.
I struggled desperately to make sense of what must be true, yet seemed unthinkable. Elsenar the mage was my true father . . . but until my mother had sought refuge amid the ancient ruins beyond Ferndale, Elsenar had been trapped there for a thousand years. I had found the answer to the vital question I had journeyed so far to ask; I now knew my true father’s identity. As an exceedingly unsettling secondary discovery, I had also acquired yet another unexpected addition to my kinship list, albeit one more distantly removed in time. I had been sired by Elsenar almost seventy-six years ago, but a thousand years earlier, he had sired the foundation for the House of Krevonel. Kasarian was thus a peculiarly time-displaced kinsman of mine! With a trembling hand, I reached for a new sheet of parchment, and wrote the last astonishing words of Elsenar’s message, to which I added my kinship deduction.
When Nolar read the words, Kasarian’s face blanched to such a degree that I almost believed he might swoon. Instead, he resorted to his habit of furiously twisting his gold signet ring. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, as if his throat were dry. “How can we know,” he began, then stopped and poured himself a measure of barley water from the jug Nolar had prepared for me. At any other time, I am sure that an Alizonder baron would have spat out such an insipid brew, with appropriate imprecations. It was a telling indication of Kasarian’s distraction that he drank a full goblet without a murmur. I doubt that he knew what he had swallowed. The moisture, however, did restore his voice to its usual firmness. He resumed his unfinished question. “How can we know where to seek our common . . . Foresire [the very word seemed sour in his mouth] if his postern to that place of his imprisonment has been magically destroyed? Surely your lady mother is dead and cannot direct us as Elsenar had intended.”
I hastened to write, “Even if that ancient postern still existed, we would have no way to locate the site near Lormt where Elsenar conjured it. No, as we embark upon any effort to succor Elsenar, we must pursue our journey to the Dales by ship, horse, and possibly on foot. I was not yet twenty when my mother died, but I recall many walks with her during my early years through the unnamed valleys near my birthplace. I believe that I can identify the very site of Elsenar’s immurement. My mother once pointed out to me some ancient stone ruins within which she had sheltered, she said, from a winter storm before my birth the following summer.”
I stopped writing, suddenly aware that my grasp was bending the quill near its breaking point. Like a sheaf of brittle leaf fragments tossed by an icy wind, previously unexplained segments of memory abruptly formed a coherent pattern.
As one reared in a large family, my mother had longed for sons to assume her Clan’s trading responsibilities. She had trained me, her only child, to be useful despite my physical limitations. Could it be that her substantial trading successes had been achieved because of the magical influences of Elsenar’s jewel? It now seemed reasonable that those strange dreams that had affected both my mother and me had been prompted by the jewel’s close presence.
I wondered if my mother had begun to regain her memories of her encounter with Elsenar before she departed upon her last, fatal trip. With searing insight, I confronted the harsh truth from our past: the heaviest strokes of evil fortune had befallen us when we became separated from the jewel—when it was first stored away, then lost in the looting of our treasure room at Vennesport. My mother had been swept away to her death, while I had suffered the torments of the war against the Dales. Now that Elsenar’s jewel was once again in my hand, I was obliged to act upon his appeal for kin-aid.
Another shard of memory intruded, piercing me like a dagger thrust. Painfully long ago, I had shared my private feeling with Doubt, writing for him in our secret script expressions of the emotions I could not voice. Compelled now to unburden myself, I scribbled furiously, “Intolerable frustration! To be confined in this feeble body that can no longer sit a horse or climb a mountain track! Elsenar’s geas from the past was directed to me—I was deliberately bred to fulfill this charge! When my mother was ready to give me Elsenar’s jewel as my betrothal gift, she would have been empowered to explain the circumstances of her agreement with him. With the assistance of my prospective husband, I should have been able to undertake the mission to set Elsenar free . . . but my mother died before I became betrothed, before she could tell me about Elsenar’s plight. Blood oath binds me to honor her commitment, but in my present condition, I cannot contemplate such a journey. My predicament is unbearable!”
I paused again, reluctant to continue, but unable to ignore the only other answer to the conundrum. Once more, I had to force my hand to shape the words for Nolar to read aloud. “Yet I can perceive one remaining alternative.”
After hearing my words read, Kasarian nodded slowly. “I also bear the blood of Elsenar,” he said in a grave voice. “Would you permit me to attempt this quest in your stead?”