Lord of Lies

Salmelu — or Igasho — lifted up his head in triumph. He moved toward the center of the room so that he stood directly in front of the Lightstone, and he fairly whipped out these words: 'Tonight you have heard one scryer's prophecy. I bring you another, from Sakai that the Day of the Dragon is at hand. For it has been foretold that Lord Morjin will regain the Cup of Heaven that was stolen from him.'

Here his hand pointed like a sword straight past my father's head at the Lightstone. 'Your son, King Shamesh, stole this from Lord Morjin's throne room, and my king demands that it be returned!'

'That's a lie!' Maram roared out, rising from his chair. 'How can Morjin claim as stolen that which he himself stole long ago?'

Salmelu cast Maram a look of scorn as if to ask why he — or anyone — should listen to the words of a drunkard. Then he turned and pointed his finger at me.

'You broke into the sacred city of Argattha — and broke into Lord Morjin's private rooms themselves. You are a thief who took gelstei from my lord: a bloodstone and the very Lightstone that now shines above you. You are a liar who has told false as to how you came by these things. And you are a murderer: how many Valashu Elahad, did you put to the sword in making your escape? You even butchered a poor beast the dragon, Angraboda, who was only trying to guard her eggs from you.'

Salmelu paced back and forth in front of my family's table, here pausing to stab his finger at me as he made a point, there sneering at me as he spat out his filthy accusations. He was all of Morjin's rage and hate, which bubbled up in his blood like poison and transformed him from a once-proud Valari warrior into a snarling, vengeful mockery of a man.

Once before, in King Hadaru's palace, Salmelu's lies had nearly driven me mad. And so I had challenged him to a duel that left him with terrible wounds — and had nearly killed me. Now, in the heart of my father's castle, I placed my hands flat upon the cool wood of the table before me where I could see them. I commanded them not to move.

'You,' Samelu said, pointing at me again, 'are also an assassin who tried to murder Lord Morjin. Is any crime so great as regicide?'

Once, in a dark wood not far from this place, Salmelu had fired into my body an arrow tipped with kirax in which Morjin had set his spite The poison would always burn through my veins and connect me heart to heart with Morjin. His Red Priest, Salmelu who was now Igasho, continued firing poison into me in the form of his hateful words.

'And now you,' he continued, 'pose as the Lord of Light when you know that it is Lord Morjin who has been called to lead Ea into the new age.'

My hands, welded to the table by the stickiness of some spilt beer, no less my will, remained motionless. But I could not keep my lips from forming these words: 'If the Maitreya is Morjin, then light is dark, love is hate, and good has become evil.'

'You speak of evil, Lord Valashu? You speak that of one who is famed for his forgivingness?'

So saying, he removed from his pocket a small, gilded box. He stepped forward and laid it on the table just beyond the tips of my fingers.

'What is this?' I asked.

'A gift from Lord Morjin.'

'I want nothing from him!' I said, staring at the box. 'It cannot be accepted.'

'But it belongs to you. Or, I should say, to one of your friends.' I looked across the hall to see Maram craning his neck to get a glimpse of what the box might hold. Baltasar, too, had half risen out of his seat.

'Don't open it, Val!' Master Juwain called from his table. 'Give it back to him!'

At last, as if my hands had a life and will of their own, they moved to grasp the box and open it. I threw back its lid and gasped to see inside two small spheres that looked like chunks of charred meat. They stank of hemlock and sumac and acids used to tan flesh. I coughed and choked and swallowed hard against the bile rising up from my belly. For I knew with a sudden and great bitterness what these two spheres were: Atara's eyes that Morjin had clawed out with his own fingers and cast into a brazier full of red-hot coals.

Every abomination, I thought. Every degradation of the human spirit.

'Do you see?' Samelu said to me. His mocking voice beat at me like a war drum. 'Lord Morjin would return this treasure to your woman by your hand. And now the Cup of Heaven must be returned to him'.

Despite myself, I moved my fingers to touch these blackened orbs that I had once touched with my lips; it was as if I had touched the blackness at the very center of Morjin's heart. I felt myself falling into a bottomless abyss. I leapt up as I whipped out my sword and pointed it at Salmelu.

'I'lll return you to the stars!' I shouted at him.

'Hold!' my father called out. 'Hold him, Ravar!'

Quick as an arrow Ravar flew out of his chair and grabbed hold of me. So did Asaru and Karshur, who came up behind me and locked their arms around me as they clasped me close to their strong bodies.

'Do you see?' Salmelu cried out again as he backed away from my table. 'Do you see what a murderer this Elahad is?'

Truly, I thought, I was a murderer of men. And now I struggled like a madman against my brothers in a rage to stab my sword through Salmelu's vile mouth. I almost broke free. For my rage was like a poison that my brothers absorbed through their skin and which weakened their will to keep me from slaying Salmelu.

'Val!' Asaru gasped in my ear as his hand closed like an iron manacle around my arm. 'Be still!'

But I could not be still. For something bright and terrible was moving inside me. Once, in the lightless depths of Argattha, Morjin had told me that my gift of valarda was like a double-edged sword: as well as being opened by others' emotions, I might wield mine against men to cut and control. Master Juwain had taught me that I must learn to use the valarda, for good, as I might my hands or eyes. But my hands trembled to grasp the hilt of my sword and make murder; my eyes were as blind and blackened with hate as Atara's,

'Val!' a familiar voice cried out from across the hall. 'Oh, Val!' A black, blazing hatred for Salmelu and Morjin built hotter and hotter inside me. As the valarda opened me to the men and women in the hall, and them to me, they felt this, too. They looked at me in loathing and awe. But a hundred feet away, Baltasar Raasharu arose from his chair and looked toward me as if awaiting my command.

'Do you see?' Salmelu cried out again as he began walking down the rows of tables toward Baltasar. He was that curious type of coward who must continually prove his bravery by goading others. 'Valashu Elahad would even have his friends murder for him. And so he would throw their lives away — as he did with the minstrel in the Kul Moroth.' At last, I could hold the agony no longer. My eyes found Baltasar's, and the burning steel of my fury for Salmelu struck straight into my young friend's heart. His sword flashed forth as he cried out and leapt toward Salmelu. Probably Salmelu had calculated that the knights at the nearby tables would grab hold of him. But Baltasar moved too quickly to be so easily stopped.

It was the Lightstone that saved Salmelu's life — and Baltasar's. (And perhaps my own.) As I twisted and turned against my brothers' frantic hands, the little cup began shining more brightly from its stand behind me. In its sudden, clear radiance, I saw many things: that Baltasar would truly die for me, not because I wished it, but because he loved me even more than he hated Salmelu or his dreadful lord. And so he would not let me be the one to slay Salmelu. The Lightstone cast its splendor on his noble face, and I saw in him the finest flower of Valari knighthood about to cut down Salmelu — and thus be cut down by the failing of my heart.

Baltasar.

The One's creations, I saw, were so beautiful. The promise of life was so sweet and good and great. And yet, in the world, so much evil, so much pain. I couldn't understand it; I knew I never would. And yet I would give anything, tear out my own heart, to keep the promise for Baltasar, and for everyone: to see them become the great beings we were born to be.

'Baitasar!' I cried out.

The Lightstone blazed with a sudden brilliance like a star. As it burned brighter and brighter, its radiance worked in me a miracle much greater than the transmutation of lead into gold For in one magical moment it turned