A little later, Andawyr lingered with Gulda after the others had left.
‘You were suspiciously quiet, sage,’ Gulda said with some irony.
Andawyr replied with affected airiness. ‘Far be it from me to venture amongst such incisive debaters,’ he said.
‘Can you protect them?’ Gulda said abruptly, brush-ing aside his facetious shield.
‘I can help them remain hidden, I think,’ Andawyr replied. ‘He’s not actually looking for us. But at the end… ’
He raised his hands in resignation. ‘Who can tell? I’ve risen to some trials recently that I’d have thought overwhelming only a year ago.’ Still holding Dar-volci, he hitched himself up on to her desk. ‘And the Order has changed too-remarkably. I’ll send who can be spared to you when we reach the Caves. If they can bind the Uhriel, then perhaps Hawklan and I between us… ’
He finished with a vague gesture. Conjecture about such a meeting was pointless.
Gulda’s eyes narrowed. ‘You and Hawklan may prove to be the best we can offer, but… ’ A look of realization spread across her face. ‘You still think he’s Ethriss, don’t you?’ Her voice was almost a whisper.
Andawyr hesitated, as if searching for a denial, then, stroking Dar-volci thoughtfully, he said, ‘I believe he carries the spirit of Ethriss within him, yes.’
‘But… ’
‘But everything indicates he’s the last Prince of Orthlund,’ Andawyr continued across Gulda’s interjec-tion. ‘Yes, I know that too, and I accept it. He is the last Prince. But I believe he also carries Ethriss.’
‘You cannot know this,’ Gulda said.
Andawyr nodded, agreeing with her doubts. ‘But it’s not completely an act of faith,’ he said, looking at her intently. She raised her eyebrows questioningly.
Andawyr swung down from the desk and laid Dar-volci gently on a nearby chair. ‘I’ve told no one here how we tried to make contact with the Guardians, and what happened,’ he said.
‘Would anyone have understood?’ Gulda said.
Andawyr ignored the question. ‘We made a great… silence… a stillness… the like of which I’ve never known. In it, as I told you, we became for a little while, the Guardians themselves.’ His face twisted and his hands fluttered with uncharacteristic uncertainty as he searched for words. ‘As our… joining… with the Guardians faded, we seemed to be drawn to something; something that was either bound… or hidden. And as we touched it, it stirred.’
‘Hawklan. In the cave,’ Gulda said. ‘The silence that woke him was of your making? The silence that quelled the Alphraan and so impressed that Goraidin, Dacu.’
Andawyr nodded. He took a chair and sat down very close to Gulda. ‘But our silence was an… absence… of conscious thought,’ he said earnestly. ‘It wasn’t something that could impose itself on others. What Dacu and the others felt was not of our making, it couldn’t have been, by its very nature.’
Gulda frowned.
‘It was something from Hawklan himself,’ Andawyr said, taking Gulda’s hand, as if for reassurance. ‘Some part of him responded to what we were doing and did the same, like the playing of one instrument will cause another lying idle, to sound. Only this was a far deeper, more intense echo of our actions if it could reach out to others like that. Especially others in such a state of agitation and fear.’
Gulda’s face was tense. ‘I understand,’ she said softly.
‘Somewhere inside that man lies Ethriss,’ Andawyr concluded. ‘Of that I’m certain, though it’s beyond my reaching.’
Gulda’s blue eyes fixed him. ‘And your hope is that Sumeral’s touch will rouse him?’
Andawyr met the gaze without flinching. ‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘Mine can’t. Oklar’s didn’t. Sumeral Himself becomes our only hope.’
Gulda let out a long breath and shook her head. ‘We hang by slender threads,’ she said. ‘You may be right or you may be wrong, but Hawklan mustn’t even guess at this. He must know to the depth of his being that ultimately it is he, and he alone, who must face and defeat Sumeral, mortal frame to mortal frame. The slightest hint that some other may appear to take the task from him could well destroy us all.’
Andawyr nodded vigorously, but Gulda’s gaze did not release him. ‘And you too must travel in the knowledge that you are probably wrong, or that you too will falter at the moment of need. Do you need my help in that? I’m not without some skill in the Old Power myself.’
Andawyr showed no surprise, but nodded an ac-knowledgement of this revelation. ‘No thank you, Memsa,’ he said. ‘Like Hawklan, I can only face Sumeral with hope if I’m aware of the true nature of my burden.’
Gulda reached out and covered his hand with her own.
Outside, the snow fell, its legion soldiers patiently transforming the Orthlundyn countryside.
Chapter 10
‘Live well, and light be with you all, my friends,’ Eldric said, raising his glass. ‘Let it shine in our hearts brighter than ever this year to see us through the darkness that threatens us.’
The hall was lit only by a few subdued torches and by the great mound of radiant stones crackling and singing in the large fireplace. They threw dancing shadows of the motionless people on to the decorated walls and ceiling.
‘Light be with you, Lord,’ echoed Eldric’s guests.
There was a brief, expectant silence as all eyes turned towards the large fir tree which had been chosen as the centre-piece of the Festival decoration.
Then, in gold and silver, and glittering reds and oranges, wound about with blues, greens, yellows, and all manner of other colours, the countless tiny torches that bedecked the tree burst into life, starting slowly at the lower branches and rising teasingly upwards, mingling and changing as they did so. Some danced around and through the boughs, others swirled hither and thither, until with a sudden rush they came together at the top in a dazzling circle of white light.
There was a gasp from the children and happy ap-plause from the adults. Even the paternal condescension affected by the younger High Guards, struggling with genuine surprise, faltered into open pleasure as Commander Varak beamed broadly.
‘Splendid, splendid,’ Eldric shouted, clapping his hands and then extending an arm to direct his guests’ appreciation towards a group of servants and retainers standing nearby. ‘I haven’t seen a display like that since I was a boy. Well done. It’s heartening to see that such skills have been kept alive all this time.’ He paused and looked again at the sparkling tree.
‘Our marred Grand Festival seems to have been almost a generation ago, rather than a matter of months. Let’s make amends for that by celebrating this Winter Festival as it should be celebrated, and… ’
Impulsively, he took up his glass again. ‘I give you another toast,’ he said. ‘To the next Winter Festival. And the one after that, and the one after that, and… ’
His voice disappeared under a great cheering, which faded only when he sat down and waved his hand over the burdened table. Following their lord’s example, and mindful of his order, Eldric’s guests sat down and began the daunting task of eating their way through the extensive Festival fare that his kitchens had laid, or more correctly, constructed before them.
For a moment however, Eldric sat back, one hand toying idly with the carved animal head that decorated the end of the chair arm, the other equally idly tilting his glass to and fro. He looked at the lights of the tree reflected in the bowl of the glass.
Then, silently, and almost imperceptibly, he nodded a small salute towards a group of figurines standing on a raised dais in the middle of the table. They were not likenesses, but they represented absent friends. The tallest was meant to be Isloman. Against his legs, like a discarded shield, rested the circular disc that he had given to Eldric as a parting gift. On it was carved the picture of Hawklan riding Serian. The Queen was there too and, more sombrely, a miniature of the Warrior, the ancient statue of the exhausted soldier that stood in Vakloss to commemorate those who had fallen in battle. Here he served the same purpose.
Eldric glanced around the table. He had just com-pleted an extensive tour of the troops guarding the approaches to Narsindalvak and found their morale excellent but, he reminded himself, there were morale problems for him here also and he must remember to keep a special watch for the tears that would surely come to some of his guests during the evening as their minds turned inevitably to loved ones who were lost forever in the battle for Vakloss.