‘One group was led by a man named Omburan – for the Thiene were men, whatever else they may be. His was the way of long silences, of joining with the earth in understanding, of walking the earthways. The other group was led by Urlasthes. It was he who found a way to create life in new forms, changing and combining it. One of the followers of Urlasthes went away into the west where he created a whole people and was destroyed by them. I have seen these people, people of rock, worshippers of horses. But Urlasthes meant to do more – more than that.
‘He decided to change himself, himself and those other Thiene who followed him, to make them perfect.
‘There were seven: Urlasthes, and with him Talurion, Audilla, Lucimbra, Lendhwelt, Telasper, and Vincepthos. Seven. They thought that they would do a kind of surgery upon themselves – oh, not anything so crude as with a knife, no–and cut away all evil, for they said that mankind had in himself all goodness and all evil, and if the evil were cut away, only the good would remain.
‘So, they did whatever it was they did. They prepared a vessel into which the dark forces should be drained away and held. She who names herself Taniel told me that. And when the thing was done, they awoke to find the vessel full, alive, and they had no power to kill it or join with it again, for it would not.
‘It is there. Now. Beyond the Concealment.
‘And from it comes all this–Gahlians, ghosts, monsters, horror and despair.’
‘What have they done about it?’ asked Leona. ‘All this time, these centuries. What have they done?’
‘Tried to undo, so says Taniel. Tried to rejoin, but could not. That will not be bound to them again. Unless the Girdle of Binding itself were to be found, that will live and thrive, unchecked.
‘When they had lost all hope and could do nothing more, they came here to Orena. There were others once, but I do not know what became of them. Perhaps they all died, one by one, except Taniel. Except for the Remnant. They, it seems, cannot die.
‘And now, as Taniel says, the world spins to a point, and we are upon it. Had you truly the Vessel in your keeping? And the Crown? Truly? Or was that only mockery?’
‘Only half mockery,’ she murmured, falling into a comforting drowse of exhaustion upon his shoulder. ‘It is the Vessel, the very Vessel, but the Crown is only my maiden circlet, my cast away, given me because it was not worth giving. But the Vessel, yes, it is the one from which healing was poured for Jaer….’ She drifted into half consciousness, wearied by some trial she had only half perceived. Through a mist of dream she heard the woman return and speak to Hazliah.
‘The Remnant sleep, who have not slept this thousand years. On the brow of Urlasthes, the Crown of Wisdom broods over its lesson. Comfort her, Hazliah, for she has given much.’
And Hazliah, answering, ‘Then it was truly the Crown as well?’
‘Did she not know she bore it? How could she not know?’
Leona did not hear his answer. When she woke, she was alone upon the high pave and the sky darkened toward evening. Struggling with a sense of shame and confusion, she rose to see Hazliah coming toward her, the circlet and the Vessel in his hands.
‘The Remnant is gone, Lady.’
‘Gone?’ The word was without meaning. Was there anywhere to go?
‘To the Concealment. They slept, gained wisdom, gained courage, perhaps were healed. Some of our kindred, yours and mine, bear them eastward. And I am bid return these great gifts to you and tell you to guard them well and be joyous, for you carry the wealth of ten kingdoms and the marvel of the world.’
‘The circlet is only …’ she began.
‘Is the Crown of Wisdom, given to the Kingdoms of the South in the ages gone, Gift of the Spirit. Oh, Lady, have you never wondered how it was that you have come scatheless through all this world’s dangers, how it was that Murgin fell before you and that you have done what no other has ever done?’
She turned the circlet in her hands, rubbing her thumbs over the smooth stones, simple and dark, like birds’ eggs, shining with quiet light. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I only wore it out of anger because it was not new-made for me.’
He took it from her and placed it firmly on her head as though dressing a recalcitrant child. ‘Lady, we have need of you and of this Crown, new-made or no.’
She thought suddenly of Bombaroba, of the grey-haired scouts and the young Sisters who had sung their days away crossing the plain, all in that instant dear to her as no others had ever been dear. ‘I will go see my boy, Hazliah, and my dogs, and have them about me for a time. Then you may make what use of me you will. If this is a Crown of Wisdom, then it is a Crown which does not tell all it knows. It gives me no answers.’
He smiled at her, reaching out as though to stroke her hair. ‘That you are here, Lady, may be answer enough.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
ORENA ARMED
Days 11-15,
Month of Sowing
‘The count of the defenders of Orena is this,’ intoned Systrys in the armouries below the Temple. ‘Of the Sisterhood of Taniel, fifteen full Choirs and the young women of Gerenhodh. Of the kindred of Hazliah, thirteen who remain in the City, for seven carried the Remnant eastward and have not returned. Of the people of Orena schooled in battle, fifty regiments of two battalions. Of those able to fight as reserves, perhaps two hundred reserve battalions. Of weapons, there are ancient ones upon the heights, yet none are of use against the mists which come to the cliff edges south and west.’
Leona heard. They had
