“And now you may look upon them,” Sorak said.
Ryana shook her head. “That I should be the one ... I, who have broken my villichi vows.. . .” She shook her head again. “I am not worthy.”
“Lord Belloc thought you were,” said Sorak.
“But he did not know.... I did not tell him. . .”
Sorak placed his hand on her shoulder. “Who am I, an outcast, to bear the magic sword of elven kings?” he asked.
“Who are you to bear the Seals of Knowledge? And who is Korahna to go against all her father stands for and ally herself with the preservers? Who are we to question any of these things?”
“Questions are what led us here,” Ryana said.
“True,” Sorak replied, nodding. “And there are still answers to be found. But we shall not find them here. I had dared to hope our search was ended. I think now it has only just begun.”
Korahna stood staring across the lake at the pile of rubble where the keep had stood. “To think, that poor spirit walked those dark and empty halls alone for longer than any of us have lived—or shall ever live. I had always thought that spirits were things to be feared yet I feel pity for that poor shade, and relief that he may rest at last.”
“Yes, now that he has passed his charge to us,” Ryana said, staring at the golden chest. “And it is no small burden.”
“What are the Seals of Knowledge?” asked Korahna.
Ryana opened the chest. Inside it, resting in slots cut into a block of polished obsidian, were four gold rings, with large, circular faces, like coins, engraved with runic characters. When pressed into hot wax or clay, each ring would make a seal.
“According to villichi legend, these are enchanted rings,” Ryana said, “made by a druid sorceress who was the first high mistress of our ancient order. Each ring is said to be a key, one for each of the four quarters, and when all four are used together as seals, the impressions made by them unlock a spell that opens up the doors to wisdom.”
“But what does that mean?” the princess asked.
Ryana shook her head. “I do not know. If there was more to the story, it has been lost over the many intervening years. Legend has it that each villichi priestess, when she came of age, departed on a pilgrimage to seek Ceys of Wisdom, which had been lost somehow. That is how our pilgrimages are said to have begun, and we know now how the keys were lost. Belloc kept them hidden in his sanctuary in the cavern while Valatrix, and who knows how many others, must have searched for them. Even if they did not possess the knowledge to use them properly, they would still have been worth a fortune. Now that metals are even more rare, they must be nearly priceless. And the sorcerer kings would doubtless give anything to have them.”
“And now you have them,” said Korahna.
Ryana bit her lower Up and grimaced wryly. “And if news of it gets out,” she said, “then I shall become a target for every thief, brigand, and defiler on the planet.”
“Should you not take them back to your villichi temple in the Ringing Mountains?” asked the princess.
Ryana shook her head. “And give those same thieves, brigands, and defilers a reason to seek out the temple? No. In time, the same thing would only happen all over again. Besides, Belloc was entrusted with them, and it was a trust he held not only through life, but also in death. He believed they should be given to the Sage, and if anyone knows their proper use, the Sage would be that one.”
“Then we had best be on our way to Nibenay,” said Sorak, “for that is the destination we were given.”
They made their way back through the tunnel and came out into the grotto once again. Sorak bent down by the pool and splashed some water on himself. “We should take this last opportunity to refill our skins and refresh ourselves a bit,” he said.
“Indeed, you should, for it shall be your last opportunity,” said Torian from the mouth of the grotto. He stood there, silhouetted in the light from outside, holding his sword and flanked by his mercenaries.
“Torian!” Korahna said.
“My compliments, Your Highness,” Torian said, stepping into the grotto. “I never would have dreamt you could survive a trek across the barrens. Clearly, I vastly underestimated your strength of will and spirit. You not only survived, apparently none the worse for wear, but you have managed to find water, too. My men and I are grateful. We had grown very thirsty.”
They looked tired and worn out from their journey across the savage barrens, but the determination in their eyes was no less intense for their ordeal. The mercenaries held crossbows drawn with bolts fitted. And they did not take their eyes off Sorak and Ryana for an instant.
“You should not have followed me, Torian,” Korahna said. “I shall not go back with you.”
“Oh, I have no intention of crossing that miserable, forsaken waste again,” said Torian. “We are but two or three days’ ride from the mountains, and once across those mountains, we are in my domain. I intend to take you back with me to Gulg, where you shall find a far more comfortable life in my family estate.”
“No, Torian,” Korahna said. “I am not going to go with you. I am going home, to Nibenay.”
“To what?” asked Torian. “To a miserable life of skulking in the shadows with the Veiled Alliance? Living in some hovel in the slums and hiding from the templars? Plotting pointlessly in stinking, filthy little rooms amidst the stench of unwashed, sweaty bodies? Fearing to show your face in the light of day? That is no life for a princess. I can offer you far more than that.”
“Perhaps,” Korahna said, “but at a price I cannot and will not pay.”
“Then I am afraid that you shall have no choice,” said Torian. “I did not come all this way for nothing. Four men have died because of you, Korahna, and two more shall die when I catch up with them, provided the barrens have not already done them in. You have caused me a grreat deal of trouble, Your Highness, more than I would have suffered for any other woman. I intend to be compensated for my efforts, and you, Korahna, shall be that compensation.”
“We may have something to say about that,” Ryana said.
“You shall have precious little to say about anything, my lady,” Torian replied with scorn. “You enjoyed the hospitality of my tent, and you repay me by stealing my property.”
“Your property?” Korahna said with disbelief.
“Priestess or not, no one plays me for the fool,” Torian continued, ignoring Korahna’s outrage. He turned toward Sorak and raised his blade, using it to point at him. “And you, elfling—you I shall kill personally.”
“Talk won’t get it done,” said Sorak.
“Then I am done talking,” Torian said, raising his blade and leaping toward him.
With a motion so deceptively fast and smooth that it almost looked lazy, Sorak drew Galdra and parried Torian’s blade as it came down. The moment Torian’s sword came in contact with the elven steel, it split cleanly in two. Torian did not even feel the impact of the parry. His arm continued on with the downward stroke, throwing him off balance, and as the upper half of his sword blade clanged to the rock floor of the grotto, Torian recovered, staring with astonishment at what remained of his sword . . . the hilt and a foot of blade.
“You were saying?” Sorak said, raising one eyebrow. Torian’s eyes grew wide with fury. “Kill him!” he shouted to the mercenaries. “Shoot him down!”
The mercenaries raised their crossbows and shot their bolts, but though no more than fifteen paces separated them from their target, each bolt flew wide of its mark. The mercenaries gaped in astonishment.