Berys left me to my thoughts for only a few moments before he was back, carrying two mugs of hot chelan. "So. The voices are real," I said, surprised at the smell of what he had brought. "Some sleeping draught."
"Ah, but I want you awake," said Berys, smiling. "Did you recognise the voices you heard?"
"Hells' sake, Berys," I snarled, "it's not like overhearing a conversation in the next room. These were voices in my head."
"The phenomenon is called Farspeech. I thought it was mere legend, but here you are just recovered from madness with it in full bloom. I want to know how you have managed it."
I shuddered. "Tonight before you came, it was—I felt as though I had gone mad again. I heard voices all the time then. Talking, talking, they wouldn't leave me alone no matter how I screamed. You can't know how it was, Berys. I had no peace, they were always there—but it was worse when they left me alone. Then there was only—no, I can't."
"What precisely happened to you, Marik?" he asked, staring intently at me. "You have not been strong enough to tell me before, but somehow I think it will not be beyond your powers now." When I shook my head and gulped the chelan, he said "Come, Marik. All is past, the damage done is healed now. The best thing you can do to reestablish your strength is to tell someone all about it, with all the details. Leave nothing out. Come, my friend, speak to me."
I had indeed recovered enough now to be wary of his concern. Berys had never been concerned for another except as that other affected him and his plans, and he was no one's friend and never had been. Still, his offer was tempting. I could feel my mind returning, both it and I were stronger every day, and it would be a relief to speak of it once and have done. Besides, I had been out of my mind for a long time, and Berys has ways of learning things. For all I knew he was testing my trust.
"Caderan and I fought them, two of the dragons, a silver one and one of dark bronze. The silver one was Akor, the Guardian, the one that had brought Lanen for healing and had stolen her away when I tried to give her to one of the Lords of Hell." I shivered at the memory. "It came through the wall, Berys. The damn things are tremendously strong.
I'd wager its head was as long as I am tall, and the rest of it in proportion. It wouldn't fit in a house."
"That was some time before the final battle, Marik. Come, man, face it. Leave nothing out of your account. You and Caderan were fighting the two dragons."
"Yes. They spat fire at us but Caderan's spells kept us safe, and the beasts could not reach within the cast circle to touch us. I used the Ring of Seven Circles to fight them—the first five had nearly done for the silver one—when another one we never noticed roared down at us from the sky. Caderan killed it, but its body fell full on him and crushed him. I flung the sixth circle at the bronze one and wounded him, but before I could get the last one off Lanen knocked me down. She bore no weapon, so Caderan's spells of protection could not stop her. In my fury I tried to kill her with the last of the Seven Circles, but I had forgot it was proof only against the dragons. I then tried to send forth the last circle to kill the silver one when I heard—they—oh Hells, Berys." I was breathing as though I had run a race, the terror of that moment alive in my mind. "They—I heard screaming, as from a distance, and suddenly it was in my head. I can't recall if I sent off the last circle in the end or not. I think so, but I'm not sure. I couldn't get them out of my head, they cut me off from my body and cast me loose in the darkness. I wandered lost, dismal, only coming back every now and then to a voice or a time."
A few scattered images returned to me. "I—all I remember after is something about a charm Caderan had cast. He had warned me about it, said over and over how deadly it was, so I'd make sure he survived. I've no idea why we didn't all die—either Caderan was lying or they found the charm and destroyed it somehow."
I turned away from Berys's face. "I seemed to remember Lanen's voice speaking to me in that darkness, but that's not possible." I shivered. "I imagined all kinds of things in my dreams."
"After that I knew only Maikel, now and then, speaking words I did not understand, feeding me something that tasted like nothing I'd had ever known, the ripest pear, the sweetest apricot—oh Hells' teeth!" I swore then, for I had only that moment realised. "Damn it! He gave me Ian fruit, didn't he?"
"If he hadn't you'd have died, you wouldn't eat anything else. Be at peace, Marik, there were still plenty for each of us, and your Steward has sold yours for an obscene amount of silver. I have eaten some and sold some of mine."
I stared at him. I had never dreamed he would be so wastefuclass="underline" but then, he never did know the value of things. "If I didn't know better—I swear, Berys, you look younger." I peered at him in the dim light.
"That does not matter now." He frowned, rubbed his chin, and began to pace the room. "I believe your story, Marik, but on the face of it, it is impossible. What they did to you would only work if you had the gift of Farspeech in the first place"—he frowned at me—"which apparently you do, but how did they know that? Unless..." He started muttering. I heard only phrases—"but why should they—only if..." Suddenly he looked up and stared at me across the room, and his face blossomed into a smile that would terrify strong men.
"Lords of all the Hells," he said in an awed, delighted voice. "They have sown the seeds of their own destruction. The balance will call for it." He stared at me, his eyes boring into mine from ten feet away. "Marik, had you ever had any idea that you might have Farspeech?"
"Of course not. I have only ever heard of it in children's tales," I replied. "Would that it had stayed there."
"Oh, no, Marik my friend, no, no, we have been given a great gift. The power of Farspeech has never been truly understood." His face changed, slowly, and he came to look remarkably like one of the demons I had seen him conjure. "You were forced into this power, but at some level they must have known you possessed it. That means that at least one of them has it, and if you are hearing more than one voice—"
"It seems like hundreds of whispers, sometimes," I said.
"Then it is likely they all have it." He laughed suddenly, a plain laugh, full of delight. "Ah, Marik, we have them now!" He grinned and walked slowly towards me. "For if you can hear, if they have forced you to hear, even one of them, then we have them." He leaned over me, his too-brilliant eyes not a handspan from mine, his breathing short and quick. "Can you speak as well?"
"Back off, Berys," I snarled. "Why in all the Hells do you care?"
"Do this for me, Marik. For us. Try to speak to them."
"And how should I do that?"
"Can you hear any voices now?"
"Berys, I don't want to—"
"I don't care what you want! Listen! Can you hear any voices?"
His voice demanded obedience, though I swore I'd get him back for this. "There is one soft one, a long way away. I can't tell what it's saying at all."
"Listen closer. Can you make out the words?"
I closed my eyes. "No, nothing. I can tell someone is speaking, that's all."
"Try to say something."
"How?" I demanded.
"I have no idea. Just try it."
I tried thinking at the voice, but I felt and heard nothing. "It's useless, Berys. Nothing. Nothing at all."
"Perhaps you can only hear, then." He moved back with a sigh. "Still, it is a great deal better than nothing."
"Whatever you say. My head hurts like fury, you bastard. Fix it."