Sorcerer’s Moon: Part Three of the Boreal Moon Tale. Julian May

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СКАЧАТЬ he murmured, transfixed. ‘Yet it seems as though it’s still there. I’ve heard of men losing a limb in battle expe-riencing a like phenomenon. Odd, isn’t it, lads?’

      ‘His mind wanders,’ Corodon said. ‘Poor devil.’

      ‘Don’t you understand what the cursèd demons have done to you?’ Bramlow cried in a voice choked with horror. ‘They have taken your sword-arm, Orry! By the laws of our kingdom – and Didion as well – such a wound makes you ineligible for the throne.’

      ‘You’re no longer Prince Heritor, twin brother.’ Corodon’s face was suffused with a terrible exultation. ‘I am.’ His gaze flickered and he looked sidelong at Bramlow. ‘Not our royal father, nor King Somarus, nor anyone else can deny me. Isn’t that right, Bram?’

      The novice said nothing.

      Corodon turned back to Orrion. ‘You and Nyla are free to wed. I offer my heartfelt felicitations and wish you every happiness.’ He paused with a judicious frown. ‘It would be best, I think, if we explained matters to Father and King Somarus face to face, rather than breaking the news at long distance. What do you think, Bram?’

      The reply was curt. ‘I dare not windspeak such incredible tidings. No one would believe me.’

      On one level of his mind, Orrion felt an eerie detachment, as though he were watching some fantastic drama enacted by the palace players that had nothing to do with reality. On another level he was coolly rational. The ramifications of the demons’ action were clear and irrefutable, just as Coro had said. There could be no waffling on King Conrig’s part, no talk of Orrion learning lefthanded swordplay to evade the restriction.

      Corodon must be named Heritor.

      Coro? Impetuous, happy-go-lucky Coro become heir to the throne? The notion had never occurred to Orrion. The miracle he’d hoped for would have simply changed his father’s mind, so that he might marry Nyla and in time make her his queen. But now…

      Vra-Bramlow stood close to him. ‘I shall never forgive myself for this, Orry,’ the novice muttered. ‘Never.’ And he thought: What am I to do? If I tell Father the truth about Coro’s talent, the crown will pass out of the Wincantor family – to Beorbrook’s adopted son Dyfrig, or even to our wicked cousin Feribor Blackhorse!

      Orrion climbed slowly to his feet. His expression was still strange, even though his voice sounded calm. ‘I was willing to pay any price for my sweet love. I’ve paid, and I shall accept whatever penalty Father metes out to me – even banishment. All the blame is mine, Bram. You have nothing to reproach yourself for.’

      Vra-Bramlow shook his head. ‘Not true,’ he whispered, but could say no more.

      ‘We can never tell Father the exact truth of this affair,’ Orrion said. He was staring into the distance, as if contemplating some faraway event. ‘He’s a hard man, and I’ll not have him revenge himself on either one of you. We three must agree on a suitable fiction to explain my loss, and we must swear never to deviate from it.’

      ‘Of course,’ Corodon exclaimed warmly. ‘Bram’s the cleverest. He’ll think up a proper yarn for us to spin. And let’s not forget to plant the banner before we leave, as we planned to do.’

      ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Coro,’ Bramlow groaned.

      ‘I’ll do it for luck, if for no other reason.’ Corodon opened his pack, shook out the scarlet silk pennon of the Sovereignty with its four interlocked golden crowns (Conrig still claimed the overlordship of Moss, even though the Salka had conquered it), and began tying it to his own climbing staff. Bramlow and Orrion watched as he built a cairn of rocks behind Demon Seat and set about fixing the royal banner atop it.

      Orrion spoke quietly to Bramlow. ‘Can you bespeak a message to the Zeth Brethren in Cala Palace for me, or are we too far away?’

      ‘At this great height, I should be able to do it. No natural barriers impede my windspeech. What do you want me to say?’

      ‘The message is to be given to Lady Nyla. In my name, beseech her to hasten to Boarsden with all speed and meet me there, for the sake of our love. Ask that she also bring her parents, and that they travel with the greatest possible secrecy.’

      The novice frowned. ‘Orry, are you sure about this?’

      ‘She and I must be near one another as I confess my transgression to Father. If he spares my life, I mean to wed Nyla immediately. This is why she must bring her parents.’

      Deeply troubled, Vra-Bramlow said, ‘It might be better if we first meet Nyla and the Lord Lieutenant and his lady elsewhere than Boarsden Castle, so you have an opportunity to…prepare them beforehand.’

      ‘You’re right. Perhaps near the border, at Beorbrook Hold in Cathra?’

      Bramlow shook his head. ‘You’d never be able to conceal your disability from the earl marshal’s alchymists. They’d insist on examining the arm if we try to pass it off as a climbing injury that I’d already treated and bound up. We’ll be able to fend off your Heart Companions that way, but not real physicians…I have it – we’ll meet the Brackenfields at the Castlemont Fortress hostelry just across the pass in Didion. No one there will think it amiss if Cathran travelers keep to themselves. And it’s only a day’s ride from the fort to Boarsden.’

      ‘Very well. Bespeak the message, Bram, before Coro finishes.’

      A few minutes later, Prince Corodon climbed down from the moonstone outcropping, took his twin’s good left arm, and draped it over one of his shoulders. ‘That’s done. If any windsearcher should scry the mountaintop, the banner will confirm that we were here. Now lean on me, Orry, and we’ll start down.’ He offered a reassuring smile. ‘Don’t be downhearted. Everything will work out for the best. This happenstance is strange beyond measure, but we can’t deny that it gives both of us our heart’s desire!’

      She had obtained a sheet of vellum scraped so thin it was nearly transparent, that might be folded into the most exiguous of hiding places and kept safe. From the desk drawer she took a silver inkwell and a crow-quill pen with a fine nib, so that her writing might be minuscule and take up the least possible room, yet still be be legible. These things she laid out just before midnight, after long hesitation deciding that the time had finally come.

      It was the most important letter she would ever write. If it were intercepted, it would surely be her heart’s death, though no man laid a hand on her. But if it reached its intended recipient, all her years of suffering would have been well spent.

      My dearest Dyfrig!

      This missive comes to you after what must have been a perilous journey, undertaken by my most faithful friend. I pray you to reward her and shield her from the retribution that would fall upon her if her rôle in carrying the letter to you were discovered by the Sovereign or his agents.

      The one who writes to you is your mother, Maudrayne Northkeep, once wife to Conrig Wincantor and former Queen of Cathra.

      I know you thought me dead, and there were many times when I despaired of my life’s continuing, so bleak has been my existence, deprived of pouring upon you the maternal love you deserve. How I longed to see and know you, to watch you grow and thrive, to share your joys and comfort your hurts as a natural mother should! My only solace was knowing that you had been given into the care of good people, СКАЧАТЬ