It reminded her of her own dilemma. She had hesitated too long at Tirnan Twil, possibly because of a subconscious worry that one day she would need her magery for healing. You can be a destroyer or a healer, but not both. Her eyes roved across the barely perceptible ceiling, creating images where there were none.
Lyf would soon resume the attack, with far greater force than before. He would throw everything at Garramide and surely must prevail. No matter how bravely Rix fought, he did not have the numbers to hold the walls against a proper army.
This battle could not be won by arms. It had to be fought another way — with magery. She lit a candle, then got out the little self-portrait Holm had taken from Tirnan Twil and lay back on her bed, trying to get into the mind of her enemy. She knew Lyf’s story, knew all that had been done to him, but Tali needed more; she needed to understand the process by which the gentle, decent young king had transformed himself into so embittered and vengeful a man.
The miniature could not tell her. The heavy film of grime and smoke stains obscured all but the outlines. If only there were a way to clean it -
Tali sprang up and hurried up to Rix’s chambers. He answered the door himself. He was barefoot, his black hair was tousled as if he’d been running his fingers through it and he had a sheaf of papers in his left hand.
“What?” he said curtly.
She thrust the miniature at him. He blinked at it, then took it. “Lyf?”
“A self-portrait, done just after he was crowned.”
“You’d better come in.”
He tossed his papers onto a pile of papers and ledgers on the table and gestured her to a chair by the fire. “Wine?”
“No, thanks.”
“That’s right, you don’t drink.”
“It’s too strong. It goes to my head.”
“It doesn’t go far enough to mine.” Rix set a lantern down on a side table, turned the wick up and sat down on the other side of the fire. He studied the portrait for a minute or two. “He wasn’t without talent.”
“Can you clean it?”
“If I had the time. Is there some reason why I should?”
She told him about her various seeings and spyings on Lyf and Errek, the decline of magery, and Lyf’s frantic search for the missing key to king-magery, the greatest power of all.
“And he needs it for his greatest task,” she added.
“A task that’s more urgent than winning the war?” said Rix. “I can’t imagine what.”
“Neither can I. But he’s really desperate.”
“And you think this image might be the lost key?”
“I don’t know — but Lyf did say that the master pearl could lead him to the key, and I felt drawn to the portrait the moment I saw it.”
Rix glanced at the huge pile of work on his table and his jaw tightened. “I’ll clean it up when I get some time. I don’t know when that’ll be.”
He stood up, and Tali was rising to go when someone slapped a heavy hand on his door, three times.
“Swelt!” Rix muttered. “What the hell does he want?”
He opened the door and Swelt lumbered in, red-faced and panting, followed by Tobry and Holm.
“Carrier hawk just came in,” said Swelt.
“News of the war?” said Rix.
“Bad news. From the west.”
Rix stood up, offering the castellan his chair by the fire.
Swelt shook his head. “No, thank you — too much to do.”
“Well?” said Rix, curbing his impatience.
“It appears the chancellor took heart from the news of your victory, and led his army north to battle.”
“Where?” Rix’s voice went hoarse.
“Halfway between Rutherin and Bleddimire.”
“I assume it didn’t go well.”
“His officers lost their nerve, and the troops broke and ran at the first charge…”
“I can hardly bear to hear the rest. The chancellor’s army was wiped out?”
Swelt shook his head. “Through sheer good luck, most of his troops survived.”
“Good luck has been a scarce commodity in this war,” said Tobry.
“They were racing across a narrow bridge,” Swelt went on, “closely pursued. An enemy bombast fell short and destroyed the first span of the bridge. They got across but the enemy couldn’t follow.”
“I dare say the chancellor counts it as a victory,” Tali said sourly.
“No one else does,” said Swelt. “I’m told his hold on the south-west is weakening.” He went out.
“So nothing’s changed,” said Tali. “As far as resistance goes, we’re it.”
“I’m really worried about Lyf’s next attack,” said Rix. “What if he brings a thousand men?”
“No one could beat off such an attack,” said Tobry.
“Save Axil Grandys himself,” said Rix, to his own surprise.
“You painted a mural of him,” said Holm. “Can I see it?”
“It’s not a secret,” said Rix. He took a lantern. “Half the servants have been up there. They think highly of Grandys here.”
He went ahead up the steep tower stairs, lighting their way with the lantern.
“Careful of the broken steps. The masons are too busy reinforcing the walls.”
“What do the servants make of the mural?” said Holm.
“They prefer to see the Five Heroes on horseback, brandishing their swords. Or standing over their fallen enemies, crushing them into the muck.”
“And you haven’t depicted Axil Grandys that way?”
“You’ll see in a minute.”
He stepped into the observatory and held the lantern high, illuminating the wall where he’d painted the mural.
Tali let out a little cry, then stepped back, her hand over her mouth.
“What’s the matter?” said Rix.
“It’s the opal man.”
“So what? You saw him in the Abysm. You told us about it, remember?”
“He didn’t look like that,” said Tali.
“I recall you saying he was all twisted and contorted.”
“But his face was different.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“In the Abysm, the opalised man was screaming in agony.”
“He is screaming.”
“Not in agony, Rix. He’s screaming in rage.”
“What does it matter, after all this time?”
Tali went forwards again, studying the face. “It reminds me of something I’ve seen before.”
“You’re an infuriating woman. You must have driven hundreds of men into a rage.”
Rix’s joke fell flat. “I’ve seen that expression somewhere — ’ She broke off, clutching at her heart. “Tirnan Twil.”
Rix and Tobry stared at her. “What about it?” said Rix.
“That’s where I saw his face — in my mind’s eye.”
“What were you doing at Tirnan Twil?”
She related the story of the destruction of Tirnan Twil, briefly, baldly.
Rix ground his teeth. Even Tobry looked shocked.
“Why are you only telling me this now?” said Rix in a frighteningly soft voice.
“The night we came, you weren’t interested in my story — ”
“Nor did you volunteer it.”
“I was planning to tell you both, until I discovered Tobry was an incurable shifter. After that, everything’s been such a disaster that I didn’t get time to tell you.”
“I assume that’s where you found Lyf’s self-portrait,” said Rix.
“Um, yes.”
“You didn’t tell me then, either.”
“I would have done, if you hadn’t been so busy. But it doesn’t change anything, does it?”
“Oh, Tali,” said Tobry. “How could you be such a fool?”
“It changes everything!” said Rix.
“How?” she whispered. “I don’t understand.”
“Not only am I harbouring a shifter in my house, and not only are you, according to rumour, debasing the whole fortress by sleeping with him — ”
“I’m not!” cried Tali. “He wouldn’t have me.”
“I’m glad one of you showed some sense.” Rix scowled at Tali. “Tirnan Twil was built by the Five Herovians. It contained many of their most precious books and relics, vital objects that can never be replaced.”