Sun in Glory and Other Tales of Valdemar

someone in the Field whose precious glass goggles could be lost or broken, rendering her the next thing to blind. Perhaps that was why she had always been Alberich's friend. 'When you can't see what people are like on the outside,' she'd once said in her blunt manner, 'you stop even considering appearances and concentrate on everything else.'

That was, among other reasons, why Myste was here tonight.

Alberich coughed again. 'And exactly it is to what that I owe the honor of your presence?' he asked, stressing the word 'honor' in such a way that implied it was anything but. He spoke Valdemaran, not Karsite.

The stranger cast a mild glance at Myste. 'Could one ask why the lady is present?' he replied-in Karsite, not Valdemaran.

'I am the Herald-Chronicler, and I am here to record this meeting, at the request of Herald Alberich,' Myste said for herself-in flawless Karsite, not Valdemaran. She'd learned it from Alberich, of course, but she owed her accent to her own exacting ear for languages.

To Alberich's surprise, the stranger smiled. 'Excellent,' he said, with every appearance of approval, 'Would it be too much to ask for a copy for myself-and to conduct this discussion in my own tongue? My command of yours is in nowise as good as yours clearly is of mine.'

His smile was sudden, charming, dazzling even-and apparently genuine. Alberich and Myste exchanged more than a glance.

:I don't sense any falsehood,: Myste Mindspoke. Her unique Gift was a strictly limited ability to Truth-Sense without the use of a spell. She could only concentrate on one person at a time, and had to be within an arm's-length or two of him, though, which (again) rendered it less than useful in the Field.

:But their so-called Priestly Attributes are no more nor less than our Gifts,: he reminded her. :What if he can block you?:

A purely mental shrug. :Then what I sense is meaningless. On the other hand, how many people know my Gift-and of those, how many are outside the Heraldic Circle or would guess I'd be here at your request?:

Not many; he had to admit that. Surely no matter how good the Karsite spies were, they didn't know that about Myste, or would think to warn this man against her. 'I think, if only for the purposes of clarity, we should conduct our discussion in Karsite,' he replied.

'And I will be pleased to provide a copy,' Myste added smoothly.

The visitor smiled again. 'Before we begin, then, will you introduce me to the lady, Herald Alberich?'

The word 'Herald' sounded strange in the middle of a Karsite sentence. They didn't have a word for 'Herald.' It sounded even stranger spoken without a curse appended.

'Herald-Chronicler Myste, this is Mage-Priest Hierophant Karchanek,' Alberich said solemnly. He couldn't resist a slight smile of his own as Karchanek started just a little, while poor Gerichen's eyes practically bulged out of his head. 'I assume I have given your title correctly?'

'Quite correctly,' Karchanek replied, recovering. Since he hadn't given Alberich his title, and Gerichen didn't know it, he must be wondering how Alberich got it-and from whom.

Your borders are not as secure as you think, Alberich told the man silently.

But of course, one single Karsite priest would not have come here, unescorted, into the heart of the enemy's capital, if he was not the equivalent of a one-man army. Karchanek probably could fight his way out of this room using his own deadly skills, wreaking considerable havoc as he did so, and might even escape if he could outrun the alarm. He definitely could slip out of his quarters at Gerichen's temple, be they ever so closely guarded, and make his way past just about anything Alberich could throw at him to get home. Karchanek commanded magic- real magic-the magic that Valdemar hadn't seen for centuries until this current war with Hardorn. He might be the most powerful Priest-Mage that Karse had seen in centuries, save only the Son of the Sun.

And the Son of the Sun had sent him here. To speak with Alberich. The Great Traitor.

Karchanek pursed his lips. 'I find myself wondering if I can tell you anything that you do not already know,' he said at last.

Alberich leaned back in his chair. 'I am a man of great patience,' he replied. 'I have no particular objection to hearing something more than once. Begin at the beginning.'

'The beginning...' mused Karchanek, then smiled again. 'Ah, then you will have to have great patience, for the beginning, the true beginning, lies with the Son of the Sun, may Vkandis hold her at zenith. Solaris. Who has been and is my friend as well as my superior.'

Alberich was very glad of his ability to don an inscrutable card-sharper's face, for he surely needed that mask to hide his eagerness. Solaris! Now there was a person no one knew much about here in Valdemar-and someone whom they all desperately needed to know everything about.

But he kept his mask in place. 'The new Son of the Sun,' he observed dryly. 'The female Son of the Sun.' Just to pair 'female' with 'Son of the Sun' would have been a blasphemy so profound a few years ago that the speaker would not only have been burned, but his ashes mixed with salt, his lands plowed under, his wife and children sacrificed, his ancestors dug up and reburied in a potter's field, and every trace that he had ever lived at all utterly eradicated.

Karchanek's smile broadened, and he spread his hands wide. 'Even so. And so crowned by Vkandis Sunlord-' he made the sign of the Holy Disk, '-himself, with His Own hands. Perhaps you had heard of this?'

'Some,' Alberich admitted. 'Rumors, tales that seemed particularly wild.'

'Not so. This, I witnessed along with thousands of others, and do believe me, Herald Alberich, it was no delusion, no trick of magic or mind, no clever artifice with a moving statue. Though the statue did move, it was no mere trumpery with a cleverly hinged arm. The Image arose from His throne, walked lithe and manlike, and took the crown from His Own head to place it upon that of Solaris. Which shrank as He put it there to fit her-exactly. I saw it. I have held that very crown in my two hands, and-' he paused again. 'There is a thing not many would know about, save the handful of novices sent to polish the Image entire, one of which I was, and the only one among them to polish the crown. Which task I owe to my habit of squirreling up the cloister walls, into the cloister orchard, round about when the plums were ripe.' His eyes twinkled, and Myste hid a grin. 'At the back of the crown upon the Image there was a lozenge, no bigger than my palm and quite invisible from below, where the sculptor, the gilder, and the jewel smith set their marks. That lozenge and those marks are upon the back of the crown that Solaris now wears.'

'Interesting,' Alberich began, still skeptical, for a truly clever fraud would have taken that into account and made sure to replicate every oddity and imperfection in the crown worn by the Great Image. And someone who was Solaris' friend as well as her supporter would probably swear that the Sun had stood still in the heavens for a day in order to lend more strength to her claim to the Sun Throne. But Karchanek was not finished.

'Nay, there is more, for has the Sunlord in His wisdom not granted her direct counsel in the form of-a Firecat?' Karchanek's brows arched, and well they might.

'A Firecat?' The words were almost forced from him. Alberich had not been a scholarly man, but even children knew all the tales of the miraculous avatars of Vkandis, and most Karsite children played at Reulan and the Firecat the way Valdemaran children played at Heralds and Companions. 'But-Firecats are legend, merely-'

Karchanek shook his head emphatically. 'No more. One walks by her side and sits at her Council table, and, when he chooses (which is seldom) lets his thoughts be known to those around Solaris as well as to the Son of the Sun herself.' Karchanek sat back just a little, a smile of satisfaction playing on his lips. 'He has, in fact, deigned to address a word or two to me. It was a remarkable experience, hearing someone speak inside one's head.

Although I imagine that you, Heralds, are so used to such a thing from your own Companions by now that you take it as commonplace.'

That was a shrewd shot-telling them that he knew not only that Companions weren't horses (or demons), but that they Mindspoke to their Heralds.

:Is he saying this-Firecat-Mindspeaks?: Myste asked incredulously.

Well, if it was a real Firecat, that would be the least of its talents. If? There was no reason to doubt it. Without a Firecat, the living, breathing, and very present symbol of Vkandis' favor, Solaris could not have lasted a