The Immortal Realm Page 9

  “It matters not,” said Rathina. “Come, let us to bed now, sweet sister. Sleep offers peace and ease, and mayhap the new morn will bring clearer skies to our wounded Realm.”

  Tania linked arms with her and walked out into the corridor. She was glad to leave the Chamber of the Conclave of Earls. It was beautiful with its soaring walls of glass and crystal, but it was also a strange and uncanny place to be on a rain-swept night.

  VIII

  “Tania. Wake up now.”

  Tania opened her eyes to darkness. A heavy, blue-gray darkness, as if the world had turned overnight into burnished lead.

  “Cordelia?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. You must get up now. I have something to show you.”

  Tania climbed out of bed and followed her sister along a curved corridor.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You will see.”

  Cordelia led her to a pair of tall crystal doors. The doors opened without being touched, and Cordelia and Tania stepped into the Chamber of the Conclave of Earls. Beyond the slender windows the sky was full of towering mountains of cloud black as sloes, shining dully. Under their feet the sea moved like molten rock.

  “I’m not too keen on this place,” Tania said. “Do we have to be in here?”

  “Yes. You must see!”

  “Okay. But quickly, though.”

  Cordelia ran across the glass floor to the Siege of the Lost Caer. She turned and sat, smiling darkly.

  Suddenly Tania was aware of the rippling sound of a harp and of a deep, rich woman’s voice singing a sad, beautiful lament.

  Years do pass, and in passing, spin out threads

  of the future

  Alive upon the weaver’s loom as she weaves her

  net of doom

  Silence drowns this wound of passion

  Is this our song we hear come a-singing?

  So fierce and bright was the sun, so huge and full

  was the moon

  The night once filled with lambent and fragrant

  stars

  Lovers’ jewels, in timeless reverie they twined

  They are lost now and we drowned deep

  Our song is stilled now, never to give voice

  again

  Yet ever the echoes ripple to the shore

  Along the road of faith we will walk nevermore

  Lost in the deep Ocean is our harbor

  Lost in the deep Ocean is our home

  “What is that song?” Tania asked.

  “It is the Song of the Lost Caer,” said Cordelia. “It is the Song of Our Redemption. If you would cure me—if you would cure us all—seek the Lost Caer, sweet sister. Seek the Lost Caer….”

  The floor gave way under Tania’s feet and with a shriek she fell, to be swallowed by the ocean.

  Except that she didn’t land in the sea at all. She was enveloped by night air thick as wine, dark as caverns under countless fathoms of seawater. And she was not swimming; she was flying on gossamer wings, and below her she could faintly make out the shapes of dark and sinister buildings that thrust towers and spires into the gloomy air.

  If you would cure us all—seek the Lost Caer, sweet sister. Seek the Lost Caer….

  Tania awoke with Rathina’s voice ringing in her ears. “Breakfast, Tania! Although if it can be called so when the sun is at the zenith, I do not know.”

  Tania sat up as Rathina lowered herself onto the bed, carrying a tray laden with bread and butter, cheese and fruit, and cups of yellow Faerie cordial.

  Tania knuckled her eyes. “I must have slept like a log.” She yawned.

  “Indeed,” said Rathina. “Like a log being sawn into firewood. You snored like a sow!”

  “I do not snore!” Tania protested.

  They had come back late in the night, tumbling together into Tania’s bed and falling quickly asleep.

  Tania looked sharply at her sister. “Has the meeting of the earls begun?”

  Rathina nodded. “A while ago,” she said. “Lord Herne arrived before dawn, and Lady Mornamere rode in as the sun was rising.”

  Tania frowned. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep in,” she said. “I wanted to be there.”

  “They would not have allowed you into the chamber,” Rathina said, buttering a slice of bread and handing it to Tania. “None but the earls or their representatives may enter—most especially not when a Conclave is in session.”

  “They’ve been at it all morning, then?” Tania asked. “The Healer Aldritch mentioned isn’t supposed to arrive till tomorrow. What can they be talking about that takes so long?”

  “There is much to debate over how the plague came to Faerie,” Rathina said, curling her legs up under her and taking a sip of cordial. “And how to prevent such a thing from ever happening again.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, we know what happened; my parents brought it here. But they’ve been punished already. What else is there to do about that? It’s done; they’ve gone. End of story.”

  Rathina looked carefully at her. “Tania, can it be that you do not realize the true purpose of this Conclave?”

  Tania gave her a puzzled look. “The true purpose? What are you talking about?”

  “The earls do not debate over the fate of Master Clive and Mistress Mary,” Rathina said gravely. “The focus of their deliberations is you, Tania. Everyone knows this; how is it that you do not?”

  Tania stared at her. “Me?” she said. “What about me?”

  Rathina reached out and cupped Tania’s cheek in her hand. “They are gathered in Conclave to decide your fate, Tania: to deem whether you may remain in Faerie, or whether you should be sent back forever to the Mortal World.”

  “What? Why would they do that?”

  “You are half Mortal, Tania. They fear you may also be the harbinger of Mortal disease. I thought you would have understood that.” Rathina’s expression became urgent. “I have a boon to ask, sister,” she said. “If it must be that you are doomed to exile in the Mortal World, will you take me with you?” She gripped Tania’s wrist with fierce fingers. “You are my dearest friend,” she continued. “I could not bear to be here without you.”

  But Tania hardly heard what she was saying. How dare the earls decide her fate without hearing her side of things, without even allowing her to be present while they talked about her?

  No! No way!

  Tania jumped out of bed, spilling the tray. Ignoring Rathina’s protests, she ran to the closet and quickly chose a gown: gray satin, simple and unadorned.

  “Tania? What is the matter?” Rathina asked.

  “There is no way they’re going to make any decisions about my life till they’ve heard what I’ve got to say on the subject!” Tania replied. She smoothed out the long skirts of the gown. “I can’t remember how to get to the glass room; take me there, please.”

  “It is pointless,” Rathina said. “They will not allow you in.”

  Tania’s eyes narrowed. “Want to bet?” she said.

  Two wardens stood at the white doors of the Chamber of the Conclave of Earls. Each held a tall crystal halberd, the axe-heads glinting in the light.

  Rathina hung back as Tania approached the men in their dark red livery. As she tried to move between them, the halberds snapped diagonally across her path, bringing her to a halt.

  “None may pass, my lady,” said one of the men.

  “Get out of my way,” Tania said, pushing one of the halberds aside and reaching for the door handle. “I’m not in the mood!”

  “My lady!” One of the guards put a restraining hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off and pushed the door open, stepping into the chamber before either of the wardens could stop her.

  She paused just inside the sunlit chamber, quickly taking in the scene. The tall windows were full of blue sky. Of the thirteen crystal sieges, all were occupied save one. Eden was among those gathered, seated under the heraldic charge of the dragon of Mynwy Clun. Tania also noticed that a fresh-faced lad with
close-cropped blond hair sat on the Siege of Gaidheal: the son of the lord and lady who had died at the hands of the Sorcerer King of Lyonesse, his hidden wings the merest bulge under his clothes.

  As she entered, the boy, Fleance, was speaking. “…cast as I was too soon into the high politics of Faerie by the deaths of my mother and father—” He stopped dead, staring at Tania.

  The other faces that turned to her were grave and solemn, and in Eden’s and Titania’s expressions Tania saw deep anguish. It must have taken a lot to persuade Eden to leave her husband’s side.

  As Tania stared around the gathering, she was aware of the clear floor under her and the sunlit drop to the wrinkled face of the ocean far below.

  “Tania?” growled Oberon, a frown gathering on his brow. “You cannot enter here.”

  “You’re talking about me,” Tania replied, aware that the wardens were at her back now, ready to take hold of her. “I want to know exactly what you’re saying.”

  Lord Aldritch glared at her. “None but the earls of Faerie or their representatives may enter this chamber when the Conclave is in session,” he said. “Be gone, Princess Tania; you cannot defy the will of the nobility of Faerie.”

  Tania stepped forward, moving out of reach of the wardens. “If this gabfest concerns me, then I have a right to be here,” she said. “Do you think I’m going to sit around doing nothing while you decide what’s going to happen to me?”

  Lord Aldritch reached out his hand toward her. “The princess’s actions serve only to prove the point I made earlier, my lords and ladies: She is not a native of Faerie; she is more than half Mortal. Her sojourn in the Mortal World has changed her utterly from the child we knew before the coming of the Great Twilight.” His eyes glinted. “We should not risk our lives for this half-thing!”

  “Peace, my lord!” snapped Titania, her eyes flashing dangerously as she looked at Aldritch. “Watch your tongue; you speak of my child.”

  Lord Aldritch bowed his head, but did not apologize.

  A light, thoughtful voice sounded. “I have listened to much talk of the strange history of the Princess Tania,” said Fleance, “but it is hard to understand what she is.” He looked at Tania. “I have been told that you were Mortal-born, but that your spirit is Faerie—is that true?”

  Tania was silent for a moment, acutely aware of the piercing looks of the people who surrounded her. “I don’t know,” she admitted at last. “I don’t know what I am.”

  “A troubling admission,” commented Lord Herne, a broad-set man with a great russet beard and eyes like blue ice. He looked keenly at her. “For in your soul surely lies hidden the answer to the conundrum we debate today. Are you Faerie or are you Mortal?”

  “She is both,” said Titania. “And before you condemn her for it, bear in mind, my lords and ladies, that were it not so, she could never have defeated Lyonesse.”

  “’Tis true,” added Eden. “My husband knew the legend—that neither true-born Faerie nor one of Mortal kind could slay that evil thing. Had my sister not been the person she is, we would not be seated here today, but would rather be under the yoke of Lyonesse.”

  “And for her help we are all most grateful,” said Lady Kernow of Dinsel, a woman with flowing gray hair and a face like carved marble. “But we face now a new peril: a disease brought into our land by Mortals.” She frowned at Tania. “Do all Mortals carry disease with them, Princess?”

  “I…I don’t know what you mean—”

  Titania broke in. “All Mortals can fall prey to disease,” she said. “Just as any man or woman in Faerie may succumb to the evils of the Dark Arts. But they do not carry the seeds of disease within them. It invades their bodies from outside.” She turned, holding each of them for a moment in her fierce glance. “And I tell you true, my lords and ladies, if Tania had the sickness, it would have shown in her by now. We have nothing to fear from her.”

  “You speak as would any mother,” said Lord Brython. “And I do not doubt your words are true, but is it not also true that Princess Tania’s gift—her ability to step between the worlds—is a constant threat to us? Were she allowed to pass at will between Faerie and the Mortal World, do we not risk her bringing some further disease into our Realm?”

  Tania looked at the tall bearded lord, alarmed that a man with whom she had fought side-by-side should turn on her.

  “Lord Brython touches the very heart of the matter,” said Aldritch. “If we are to live without fear of Mortal disease, then we have but two choices before us: either Princess Tania must be sent forever from this Realm and locked in the Mortal World behind unbreakable enchantments, or if she is to remain here, her gift must be taken from her for all time.”

  Tania stared at her father. “No!” she cried. “You can’t make that kind of decision about me like…like it’s nothing!”

  “Heed me, daughter,” said Oberon. “A choice must be made. But you speak true: This is too weighty a matter for us to make the choice on your behalf.” He rose from his chair, moving slowly, as though his body ached. Moment by moment the Gildensleep was draining all the energy out of him. But there was still great majesty in him, and all eyes turned to him. Tania felt a warm hand slip into hers. It was Rathina, silent at her side.

  “We have debated long, my lords and ladies,” Oberon said. “We have spoken of Tania’s gift and of its mystic origin. We have spoken of our hopes and our fears. We have spoken of what enchantments or remedies may lie in Faerie to halt this Mortal plague. We have spoken of the Mystic Arts and of the spirits that live in all things. We have spoken of how our people may be saved and of how the Immortal Realm may survive. I have weighed all your words in the balance, and here then is the doom I decree.

  “For the safety of the Realm of Faerie Princess Tania can no longer be allowed to use her gift—save once more if she so chooses. She stands at a fork in the road of her life. She alone can decide which path to take: either to remain with her loving family in Faerie or to depart forever and live out her life in the world of her Mortal parents. I give her until tomorrow eve to ponder the question of her life. But in that time she must give her most solemn oath that she will not use her gift, that she will remain in Faerie. And whatsoever her choice be, I decree that all the portals between Faerie and the Mortal World will be closed forever at dawn on the following day. By that time Tania must either have departed this Realm or she must embrace Faerie for all eternity.”

  Tania could hardly take this in. The King was only allowing her a day and a half to make a decision that would change the rest of her life.

  For a moment she thought she was going to faint. If she had not felt Rathina’s hand tight in hers, she could easily have collapsed onto the glass floor.

  “Do you accept my doom?” she heard Oberon asking.

  She gazed at him, her brain refusing to work.

  “I will vouch for her,” said Eden, looking at Tania with pity and understanding. “She will not disobey.”

  “Then are all in agreement?” Oberon asked.

  Tania was vaguely aware of voices saying aye.

  “The closing of the ways between the worlds will save this Realm from further harm,” she heard Aldritch say. “So let us turn now our thoughts to the coming of the Healer, for I deem that none other can hope to find a cure for the plague.”

  “Who is this man?” asked Titania. “You say his name is Hollin and that he has followers—but whence comes he, and what is the wellspring of his skills?”

  “Aye,” added Eden, frowning at Lord Aldritch. “I would know that, too. My sister the Princess Hopie is the greatest Healer in all of Faerie—and yet, my lord, you tell us that this Hollin can outdo her in her own craft? How is that so?”

  “He is not a native of this land,” said Aldritch. “He came to Weir from Alba—from across the Western Ocean.” He looked at Titania. “As you did yourself, in glad times long past, your grace.”

  Tania stared at her mother. She gasped. “You’re not from Faerie? You never sa
id—”

  “It was not kept from you as a secret, Tania,” said the Queen. “I was born in Alba, and I came to Faerie as a young woman, following a prophecy that was made at my cradle.” She turned to Aldritch. “But I do not recall that there were any Healers in the land of my birth to outrival Princess Hopie, my lord.”

  Aldritch straightened his back, his eyes proud as he looked at the Queen. “If Hollin proves inadequate to the task, then may the curse of the plague fall upon me and all my House, your grace,” he declared. “I know of Master Hollin only that he has great healing powers—powers that I have witnessed with my own eyes.” He glanced around the chamber, his voice cold and angry. “But if any doubt me, then shall I gladly quit this palace and return to my own Earldom with Master Hollin in my train.”

  “Peace, Lord Aldritch. We do not doubt you,” said Oberon. “But let us hope that this man is all that you say he is. When is he expected?”

  “He comes by sea and will make landfall here at first light tomorrow.”

  “Then all is decided,” said Oberon. “We shall arrange that the Healer from Weir receives a goodly welcome on tomorrow’s early morn.” He turned his gaze on Tania. “In the meantime you must go, daughter, and give thought to your future. We shall meet here tomorrow eve to hear your words and thus to welcome you forever to this Realm, or if you so choose, to bid you a final, sad farewell.”

  “Who am I, Rathina? I mean, really—tell me: Who am I?”

  Tania was sitting at the top of a broad set of marble steps, her chin propped on her arms and her elbows resting on her up-drawn knees.

  She and Rathina were alone in a wide, terraced garden that lay within the walls of the palace. It backed onto tall crystal towers and stepped down in gentle grassy gradients to a low balustrade that stretched in a curve along the cliff edge. Gravel paths wound between the clipped lawns, and in pots and stone troughs grew yellow and blue flowers and tall fountains of red and golden grasses. Every stone surface in the garden was encrusted with elegant designs fashioned from seashells—from scallop shells as large as Tania’s open hand to cockleshells and mussels, and green limpets and yellow nerites, and tiny blue periwinkles no bigger than a child’s fingernail.