“Stand up, girl. This is no court ceremonial. You are the Lady Eyil hiVriyen, of the Green Kirtle Clan of Tumissa, priestess of the Fourth Circle of the Temple of Hrihayal. Why so surprised? My people uncovered hints of your Temple’s plans, and thus my faithful Hele’a had some discourse with your maidservant Tsatla whilst you were on the road. Hele’a’s net swept you up along with the other fish, unfortunately for you.”
“Harsan? Where is he?”
“Presently well, having a cup of wine, and considering my eminently logical postulations, as should any good priest of the Lord of Wisdom. You shall see him soon. If all goes as I propose, neither of you will come to any harm.”
She said nothing. Prince Dhich’une took a turn around the little cell, affecting to inspect the walls, the filthy granite water basin set in the comer, the green-corroded waterpipe, the bronze fittings of the door.
At length he said, “I hope that you have not been too discomfited by all of this. A sister-priestess of the Lords of Change should not suffer unduly at my hands.”
Again Eyil made no answer.
“So, then.” He turned back to her, and she saw that he had the two halves of the white metal sphere in one hand. “You see, Lady, the race is over. The Globe is mine. Your High Priestess, the Lady Misenla hiQurrodu, must now abandon her excursions into Imperial politics and go back to gulling fat old degenerates out of their gold.-Or return to my brother, Prince Eselne, and dream her dreams of becoming an Imperial Consort in the Golden Tower.”
“Mighty Prince, I know nothing of this.” She clutched her cloak to her in an instinctive, defensive gesture.
“Dissemble with me at your peril, priestess! My servant-” he gestured at a stooped, elderly man who stood peering in at her through the open doorway, “-tells me that you are no lover-in any sense of the term-of the Lady Misenla. You cling to the more moderate faction of your temple and are no member of her Clan of the Emerald and Silver Crown. She could not have known that when she commanded that a clever and resourceful woman be sent from Tumissa to join this priest Harsan on the road and dazzle him into giving up his secrets! It is from this that your Skein begins to unravel: though Misenla does not work with me in this venture, yet we had warned her to keep her people far from the Temple of Eternal Knowing this night! Were you close in her councils, she would have told you. But she trusts you not, Lady. Ill luck for you!”
“A priest of Lord Ksarul-Kerektu hiKhanmu-met me in the street earlier-when I entered the Temple of Eternal Knowing in search of Harsan. He hinted that something was afoot. I–I ignored him.”
“You should have listened. He is an ally of ours-a member of the Black Robes’ secret Ndalu Clan, the faction of their faith that seeks political action and is hence closest to my own. We had warned them as well.”
She rubbed a dirt-smudged hand across her cheek in puzzlement. “Mighty Prince, how-how do you know so much about my- loyalties?” She peered past him at the old man. “Ah. He-?” v “Ai, Vridekka. He sees into your mind.” The thin lips split in an imitation of a smile. “Under these conditions it is impossible for one of your Circle to block him out. He spears your thoughts as easily as a Ghatoni spears fish. His skills are invaluable here in the Tolek Kana Pits, for else we should waste much time in prodding it all out of you with less pleasant methods.”
Eyil let her shoulders droop, most prettily she hoped. “What would you of me, mighty Prince?”
He resumed his restless pacing. “I shall be frank with you, girl, for time is short. Vridekka informs me that this Globe of Instruction contained not only information about a-a device of the ancients, but also a powerful spell, a Mind-Bar. Do you know what that is?”
She nodded mutely.
“Your Harsan does not know it himself, but he can no more tell me where this instrument is than he can swallow Thenu Thendraya Peak! Were every torment in the Five Empires to be applied to him, he would still remain as dumb as a AVzo-squash. He cannot reveal what he knows-at least not to those whom he intuitively identifies as foes. The ancients wrought so skillfully that they have cost us both time and possibly certain counters- but not yet the game.”
“Then how will you overcome this thing?”
“You have been told what we seek? The Man of Gold?” He shot her a glance and nodded sardonically at the expression upon her face. “At least your superiors have enlightened you to that extent! If we cannot wriggle our way past this Mind-Bar, then the Man of Gold remains as safe in its hiding place as is my father in his Golden Tower at Avanthar.”
Eyil would have answered with yet another question, but the old man gave an apologetic cough. Prince Dhich’une went to confer with him in tones too low for her hearing. After a moment the bone-white features turned back to her.
“I have further disquieting news for you, girl. Your petty priestling suspects your allegiance and your affections. Vridekka has also seen this in his mind. Your masquerade was not as perfect as you had imagined. Yet I believe that my original strategem will work, notwithstanding. You see, I know you to be unsure, irresolute in your feelings-though you may not admit as much even to yourself. You do care for this Harsan, more than your superiors would wish, and likely more than you desire in your own mind. You are not immune to him any more than he is to you. Indeed, were it not for your training-and your passion for those fripperies which no lowly priest of Thumis could ever buy you-you would mayhap be content to wander off and raise his dull brats on a farm somewhere. Eh, girl?”
She could not deny the gaze of those black marble eyes. She lowered her head and let her black tresses fall about her face. She did not push them away again.
“You are here, and you must choose. Will you swim with me, or will you sink with your emerald and purple Goddess?”
“I can never do Harsan ill, mighty Prince. Your Mind-seer has already seen it in my heart.”
“Join me in this, and he comes to none. Decide.”
“What must I do, my Lord?”
“We have two arrows for our target, Lady. Vridekka claims that though this Mind-Bar prevents speech, it may not hinder actions-particularly those that are strongly willed and desired. While he may not be able to speak of the Man of Gold or even draw us a map of its location, he can assuredly be got to guide us to it and demonstrate is workings. The encouragement to do so will be potent enough, I think.”
“And-I am to provide the-this motivation?”
“You have seen it, priestess. The most ancient and obvious measures will be attempted first. You shall appeal to his romanticism, his protectiveness, and his masculinity. These ideals have plagued humankind since before the Gods walked upon Tekumel, and well do you know how to compose pretty melodies with them! His affection for you will overcome all else, and he will guide us to the Man of Gold as prettily as the golden Sahulen- bird leads the hunters back to her nest.”
“But if he has recognised me for-what I am-then what hold have I upon him? You say that Harsan must have a strong and conscious desire to guide you to the Man of Gold? Of what use, then, am I? He will turn his face away from me.”
'Unlikely. He is young and sees himself as gallant. He is steeped in the chivalry of the epics; he yearns for the highminded demeanour of the ancient heroes. No, he will not fail you, girl. We have only to display you to him in what appears to be deadly peril, and he will jump to lead us to his precious relics. It will be hard even for the ancients’ dusty Mind-Bar to compete with the hotblooded heroism of youth!”
“Still, if he refuses? The spells of the old ones are mighty…” “We have not shot our second arrow as yet. There are ways and ways, my Lady. While he is bemused by your apparent plight, Vridekka here will again stab like a dagger into his mind. He will be distracted, and that in itself may be enough to penetrate the spell. Once we discover where the thing lies, we shall take you both there and see to it that he continues to have the will-nay, the heartfelt determination-to expound the secrets of the device.”
“You-you speak of my apparent plight, mighty Prince. You will not-”
“Hurt you? Not unless I must. I am no slippery-eyed, wetlipped pervert to take pleasure in the shrieks of little boys and slavegirls in the privacy of my bedchamber!” The strange eyes seemed to look right through her. “I do what I must to gain my goals and no more. The Lord of Worms cares nothing for the pleasures of this world, nor do we who serve him yearn for the paradises of the Gods. Rather do we prefer existence here, in this universe: life everlasting in the reality that lies in and beyond the tomb.”
“But-is not Lord Sarku the Master of the Undead?” “Naively put, but true. We who follow Him seek to remain
