Areava found the loneliness hardest at night, and now that the weather was getting colder it seemed to hover over her like a ghost. She bastioned herself with cushions and quilts, and still the bed felt as empty as if she was a leaf on a wide sea. Some nights it would be hours before she fell asleep, and she would wake at first light in a shock as if surprised she had found sleep at all. During the day she could hold off the loneliness through sheer hard work, but when she was alone, when she was too tired to read Harnan's notes or Orkid's reports or the royal correspondence, it would rise again and surround her. In a way the loneliness was worse than the terrible grief she had experienced right after the deaths of Sendarus and her baby; the grief had been swamped by the magnitude of the disasters she and her Kingdom had suffered, and in suffering together Areava found strength she had not expected.
But now Grenda Lear was getting on with its existence and Areava must at last face the solitary truth of her own life. As queen she was separated already from the mainstream, but as a widow her isolation was complete. At her worst she easily imagined she was unloved, unwanted, cast away, but it was against her nature to feel sorry for herself for long, and she would remember the love and support of Olio, and the devotion of Orkid Gravespear and Harnan Beresard. Ironically, she understood how it was possible to be alone because she was queen, and yet as queen she had more companionship than she did as a woman.
On top of all of that, her head was filled with the details of the war against Lynan. She knew by heart the size of each detachment of troops going to the Great Army and where it came from; she knew the number of ships, naval and merchant, involved in transporting and supplying that army, and she knew how much the whole affair was going to cost her Kingdom. It would take a decade for the economy to recover. The crown itself would be in debt for most of her reign.
But Grenda Lear will survive, she told herself. Indeed, it would be stronger and more united because of Lynan's rebellion. In a way he had done her a favour by reducing Haxus—Grenda Lear's oldest enemy—to nothing more than a province ready for annexation once hostilities were over. The whole continent of Theare would come under the sway of her House. The Rosetheme kestrel would fly above every city, every port, every ship that plied the continent's seas.
She was slowly aware of a heavy weight growing between her breasts. For a moment she thought with dread it might be her heart, but realised almost right away it was the Key of the Sceptre. In wonder she lifted the quilt over her. The Key looked no different. She touched it gingerly and gasped when a spark flew between the Key and her finger. This had happened before, when she had first touched it after Berayma's murder.
What was happening?
Incredibly, even as her breathing and heartbeat increased in excitement and fear, she felt unconsciousness, heavy and dark, slip over her mind.
'No!' she cried out, but her voice was small and weak.
The Key was now so heavy it pressed down on her like a great stone weight.
And then she was no longer in Kendra.
A face flashed across her mind's eye, female, ancient and beautiful at the same time, alluring and terrible. Then a Chett's face, not a girl but not much older, strong, powerful and determined. Like me, Areava thought. Then Ager Parmer, one-eyed and serious. Another woman's face, also young, but unmistakably Kendran, and around her a great aura of power. The magiker who escaped with Lynan, but a student no longer.
And then Lynan's face, but changed dramatically, cruelly; pale and scarred, his eyes too old for his eighteen years. He was naked, aroused, fevered, muttering obscenities.
Areava tried to look away.
Lynan still, and then another presence over him, speaking to him but in no tongue Areava understood. A glimpse of a face, the first one Areava had seen, with deep yellow eyes and irises without striation. Terrible eyes. The face turned away and dark wings wrapped around Lynan.
Areava felt an overwhelming need to flee. Again, she tried to look away, to send herself somewhere else, but whatever power had brought her here would not let her escape.
The thing with a woman's face smiled at her brother. Her lips parted and blood seeped from the corners of her mouth.
Areava screamed, and everything went dark.
CHAPTER 25
Lynan's madness lasted four nights. On the first night, the night Lynan slew Farben, Jenrosa left the city by herself and made an incantation in the air. A ring of fire as red as the setting sun spread out in the sky, its moon shadow rippling along the ground like a bloody tide.
On the second night she left the city by herself and made an incantation on the earth. The ground beneath her feet coughed up the rotting body of a dead soldier, the flesh still hanging from its bones.
On the third night she left the city by herself and made an incantation in the water of the Barda River. The water broke in waves that spread out from her in a great circle. Fish fled the river and suffocated on the banks, twisting and flopping in pain.
On the fourth night, the night when she would make her greatest magik, she first walked slowly from her room to Lynan's private chambers. When she got there the two Red Hands on duty immediately let her through; no one stopped a companion of the White Wolf.
Lynan was in his bed, his eyes open but his mind somewhere else. His lips constantly muttered strange sentences that no one understood. He took neither food nor drink, but he did not diminish. His skin shone in the candlelight like marble.
On his left side sat Korigan. On his right side sat Ager. They looked at Jenrosa when she entered. Korigan tried to smile. Ager's eyes were asking questions she could not answer; not yet, anyway.
Ager made way for her. She leaned over Lynan and whispered in his ear, 'The past is the same, but the present has no boundary.'
Instantly he stopped his muttering, and his head turned so he could look at her.
'What did you say?' Korigan asked urgently.
Jenrosa waved her quiet. Lynan was saying something, but she could not hear it.
'The past is the same,' she repeated, 'but the present has no boundary.' She put her ear next to his mouth.
'The past is the present,' said a voice that was not Lynan's.
Jenrosa shot up straight and stepped away from Lynan. He smiled at her, something sickly and depraved, and for an instant his eyes focused on her face. Then he turned his head back, his eyes glazed over once more, and he returned to his muttering.
'What happened?' Korigan demanded.
'What did you do?' Ager added.
Jenrosa shuddered. She felt dirty, infected. She wanted to run to the Barda River and throw herself in, sink like a stone to the bottom and drown.
Ager grasped her arm and she flinched from the contact.
'God's death, Jenrosa!' he called. 'What's wrong?' He instinctively took a step towards her.
Jenrosa put her hands out to ward him away.
'Tell me what just happened,' Korigan ordered, coming around to their side of the bed.
'I cannot tell you,' Jenrosa said breathlessly. She shook her head to ward off any more questions. 'Not yet. I will tell you later.' She ran for the door.
'Jenrosa!' Korigan cried after her.
'Trust me!' she called back but did not stop. She ran until she reached her room. A single candle burned on a washstand. She splashed her face and throat with water. Shadows danced around her. She knew what they meant. She had not much time. She took some materials from one of her saddlebags at the foot of her bed and left. She intended to walk out of the palace, out of the city and into the country to perform the last of the four magiks, but when she got outside was stopped by the sheer menace in the air and the realisation she might not have enough time. Panic rose in her and she pushed it down with a great effort of will. Where could she go? She needed fire…