“You know of the Caldron?” Aurian asked, balancing with difficulty on his slippery, pitching back.
“I know,” Ithalasa replied gravely. “My people carry in their minds all the lost secrets of the Cataclysm. It is our burden and our sorrow. That part of the past is best buried and lost.”
He knew. Dear Gods, he knew! The Leviathan had the answers that Aurian sought. But she could sense, without any need for further words, his reluctance to speak of the matter. Still, she had to try. “My sorrow to distress you, Great One, but will you tell me? If I hope to fight this evil, my ignorance puts a deadly weapon into the hands of my foes. And fight I must, or die in the attempt. I have sworn to bring the Archmage’s evil to an end.”
“Child, how can I?” Ithalasa’s thoughts were tinged with deep regret. “I understand your need to oppose this evil, but all the races of the Magefolk swore never to revive this perilous knowledge, lest the Cataclysm come again. I cannot tell you. Would you have the world’s destruction on your conscience, and mine?”
Aurian sighed. “Mighty One, Wise One, 1 may be young and untutored by your terms, but I understand the fearsome responsibility that rests with me. I know what devastation a war between the Magefolk could unleash. But if I should gain the three lost Weapons, surely Miathan could be subdued without too much damage being done? 1 tell you frankly that I am trained in the arts of war. But I was taught by one who had no love for violence or destruction. He was the best and gentlest of men, and the greatest of the many great gifts he gave me was respect for my fellow beings, no matter what their race, and a hatred of senseless death and bloodshed.”
The Leviathan paused a long while in thought, but his mind was veiled from the Mage. At last he sighed, a mighty sigh that threw a sparkling, irideseeijf fountain from his blowhole. “Little One—supposing you found the Weapons, Supposing you used them to defeat the Archmage, and in doing so, gained the fourth also. What would you do then?”
“I would give the Weapons to you,” Aurian told him, without hesitation, “Your people would be far better guardians of such perilous things. I would leave it to you to judge whether they should be kept, concealed, or destroyed, I seek no power—only the fulfilment of my task,”
“Are you certain of this?” Ithalasa’s thoughts were tinged with surprise.
“I swear it. Great One, you may Read me if you wish, so that you can be sure I speak the truth.”
“You would submit to that?” The Leviathan sounded astonished. Reading was hardly ever done. Far deeper and more intense than the Test of Truth, it was said to reveal the depths of a person’s very soul—and in the hands of a skilled practitioner, it was open to dangerous meddling and abuse. In even suggesting such a thing, Aurian had declared her absolute trust in Ithalasa. “I would—and I will,” the Mage said firmly. “Very well, Little One. I accept—and 1 am honored.” Steeling herself, Aurian opened her mind to Ithalasa’s probing thoughts. It was worse than her worst imaginings—a wrenching intrusion far deeper, far more intimate than any physical rape could ever be. The Leviathan sifted through her mind, turning over the very silt and dregs of her soul—all that was unworthy or petty, all the faults of pride and temper and stubbornness that were so much a part of Aurian’s makeup. All the things that she had denied, or kept safely hidden from herself, were churned up like clouding mud disturbed from the bottom of a clear stream. When it was over, she found herself huddled in a tight ball on the behemoth’s knobbly back, sickened and shaking.
“Little One, be easy.” The Leviathan’s words spread like a soothing balm through Aurian’s ravaged and abraded consciousness. “Even the Gods themselves, they say, never attained perfection. It is not pleasant to confront one’s faults, but therein lies the path to true wisdom—and that is why so few ever attain it. There is great good in you—great honesty and honor and courage, coupled with a loving heart—that far outweighs the bad. Keep a balance between both aspects of yourself, Daughter, and all will be well.”
Daughter—he had called her Daughter! Aurian’s wretchedness was lightened by a fierce surge of love and pride. She tried to gain control of herself, at least enough to ask for his answer, but he spared her the effort.
“For my part, you have my trust,” he told her, “and I owe you a great debt, for saving my child. But I may not make this decision alone. See, we are near the lagoon—there, beyond that tall point thai juts into the ocean. It is safe there—and you must eat and rest. WhiL you sleep, I will consult with my people, and plead your case, for thi\ decision must be made by all our race, not one alone.”
The Mage’s heart sank. After all she’d gone through , . But she knew that Ithalasa had done all he could, and it would be wrong to press him further. With a tremendous effort Aurian summoned the grace to thank him as she ought. There was a smile behind the Leviathan’s reply, and she knew that he approved of her efforts. “SeeP” he told her. “Already your wisdom grows.”
The lagoon was almost a complete circle, hemmed in by reefs on the ocean side and tall cliffs on its landward edge. It was as safe as it could possibly be—nothing could come to this place unless it swam or flew. Aurian swam to the strip of stony beach that curved round the farthest edge, and Ithalasa herded fish into the shallows for her to catch. She was grateful for his help, knowing that she would never have managed otherwise. As she was starting her fire to cook them, the Leviathan took his leave, promising to return as soon as possible.
The Mage was bone-weary. She ate her fish half asleep, and after drinking from a spring that trickled down the cliff, she lay down to rest, trusting the powerful sun to dry her clothes on her body. This time, Aurian fell asleep at once, and while she slept, she dreamed. A wondrous dream of the past, set in the dawning ages of her own world.
The Magefolk were numerous and powerful and ruled the world. They controlled the weather and the elements, the seas and the crops in the fields, the birds and beasts and Mortal men without magic, who, little more than animals themselves, were their servants and slaves. All across the lands and seas dwelt the four great races of the Magefolk=—ojae race to control each of the four Elemental Magics.
The Human Magefolk, or Wizards, as they then called themselves, ruled the element of Earth. They had speech with all creatures of the earth, and the trees and all things that grew. The most skilled among them could even speak with the very rocks of the mountains. Their task was to keep all things fruitful, all in balance that lived or grew upon the earth, so that each might prosper and thrive, and fill its rightful place in the interlinking web of life.
Their brethren, the Winged Magefolk, or Skyfolk as they chose to be known, controlled the element of Air. They dwelt in lofty aerie-cities in the tallest mountains, and were responsible for the birds, and^alj other creatures that flew. Their powers harnessed the mighty winds, which bore the rain clouds to make the world fruitful.
In the essential business of weather, they worked with the masters of the element of Water—the Magefolk of the Race of Leviathan, in whose charge were the waters of the world and the creatures that dwelt therein. They controlled the seas, the rivers and lakes, and using the Cold Magic in the days before it was turned to evil, the great ice caps in the far north and south of the world. Theirs was the gift of rain, which was borne where it was needed by the winds of the Skyfolk. The Leviathans, because of their aquatic home, were not human in shape. Since the water bore their weight, some developed to immense sizes. They were streamlined and sleek, with great curved flukes to steer and flat horizontal tails to propel them at great speed. But they were warm-blooded and air-breathing, and bore their young alive. It was said that they were the oldest race of Magefolk, from which the others had sprung. They certainly possessed the deepest wisdom of all, and the most profound joy in life.