question.
‘Master Corman told us
that the Realm has been warded to lessen the effects of the
dreaming. How can an entire Realm be protected? The idea implies
such immense power.’ He trailed into silence in the face of Pule’s
apologetic expression. Grent drew a deep breath. ‘So there really
is that much power here?’
‘Indeed there is my
lad.’
‘Then why has this
Realm kept itself so isolated? The healers alone could be of such
benefit to Kelshan’s people.’
Nenat sighed. ‘Dear
Grent. Most people do not think as you do. Always they look for
advantage over each other.’ She leaned her head into the pillows
stacked behind her. ‘Imagine Grent, one healer who could walk right
to Simert’s Gate and lead back a soul, heal the body and restore
that soul. Imagine, a warlord, high merchant, the Imperatrix,
holding that healer to do only their bidding. What would you give
up to such a one if they agreed to allow their healer to cure your
wife, your child? To save them from certain death? No, no, Grent.
Kelshan must not know the secrets of this Realm – assuredly not
with an Imperatrix like Veranta.’
Grent had folded his
gangly height onto a low stool and clasped his arms round his knees
while Nenat spoke.
‘You have trained me in
the Lesser Path, have you not master? But what else have you done
to me?’
Pule looked stricken,
stretched his hand towards Grent, then let it fall back in his lap.
Grent’s expression was determined.
‘I’ve always known
you’ve taught me much more master. All those times I’ve fallen
asleep. When I woke I felt I’d been dreaming – dreaming again. But
what did I learn whilst I slept master?’
‘If we had been able to
remain in Kelshan you would have recalled a few of those lessons
lad. Now, if you choose to stay here, in the Dark Realm, and swear
the oath of service to the Dark, you will remember all I have put
into your mind.’ Pule’s steady gaze told Grent he had but to swear
to the Dark and power hitherto unlooked for, would be
his.
‘I know nothing of the
Dark,’ he said softly. ‘How can I swear to something I know nothing
of?’
‘Speak to Corman my
dear lad. Ask him anything at all and he will answer you
truly.’
‘Gossamer says he’s
dead.’
Pule gave a faint sad
smile. ‘He is.’
Grent nodded and
unwound himself from the stool. ‘Where will I find Corman? I’d like
to speak to him at once, before we see the First
Daughter.’
‘He will probably be in
the library at this hour, the archive annex. Ask anyone you see,
they will direct you to the place.’
Grent regarded his
master gravely. ‘I’ll come back and tell you my
decision.’
Pule returned his
straight look. ‘May the Dark bless you, lad.’
Leaving the infirmary
Grent found an elderly man sweeping the corridor just outside. He
asked for directions to the library. The man nodded and led him
through what felt like leagues of corridors, halls and public
galleries. Turning one corner Grent nearly crashed into the
Palace-Keeper Jenniah. She smiled when he explained his intent, his
erstwhile guide retreating back the way they’d come.
‘Here.’ She took him
only a few more paces to a plain door, opened it and indicated he
should enter.
Grent found himself in
an enormous room, filled with books, scroll cases and what looked
like piles of as yet unsorted books. Several tables were scattered
across the middle of the floor, one of which was occupied by three
women, their heads bent over books and a low murmur of discussion
arising from them. A man appeared beside him and Grent blinked. He
hadn’t heard or seen his approach. It was difficult to guess the
man’s age but Grent would have said he was older rather than
younger than he seemed. He wore a grey shirt of a silky soft
fabric, bordered with black at collar and cuffs. Grey trousers of
the same material were tucked into grey boots.
‘I am the Librarian,
Chindar. Is there something I can help you with?’
‘I’m Grent,
‘Master Corman told us
that the Realm has been warded to lessen the effects of the
dreaming. How can an entire Realm be protected? The idea implies
such immense power.’ He trailed into silence in the face of Pule’s
apologetic expression. Grent drew a deep breath. ‘So there really
is that much power here?’
‘Indeed there is my
lad.’
‘Then why has this
Realm kept itself so isolated? The healers alone could be of such
benefit to Kelshan’s people.’
Nenat sighed. ‘Dear
Grent. Most people do not think as you do. Always they look for
advantage over each other.’ She leaned her head into the pillows
stacked behind her. ‘Imagine Grent, one healer who could walk right
to Simert’s Gate and lead back a soul, heal the body and restore
that soul. Imagine, a warlord, high merchant, the Imperatrix,
holding that healer to do only their bidding. What would you give
up to such a one if they agreed to allow their healer to cure your
wife, your child? To save them from certain death? No, no, Grent.
Kelshan must not know the secrets of this Realm – assuredly not
with an Imperatrix like Veranta.’
Grent had folded his
gangly height onto a low stool and clasped his arms round his knees
while Nenat spoke.
‘You have trained me in
the Lesser Path, have you not master? But what else have you done
to me?’
Pule looked stricken,
stretched his hand towards Grent, then let it fall back in his lap.
Grent’s expression was determined.
‘I’ve always known
you’ve taught me much more master. All those times I’ve fallen
asleep. When I woke I felt I’d been dreaming – dreaming again. But
what did I learn whilst I slept master?’
‘If we had been able to
remain in Kelshan you would have recalled a few of those lessons
lad. Now, if you choose to stay here, in the Dark Realm, and swear
the oath of service to the Dark, you will remember all I have put
into your mind.’ Pule’s steady gaze told Grent he had but to swear
to the Dark and power hitherto unlooked for, would be
his.
‘I know nothing of the
Dark,’ he said softly. ‘How can I swear to something I know nothing
of?’
‘Speak to Corman my
dear lad. Ask him anything at all and he will answer you
truly.’
‘Gossamer says he’s
dead.’
Pule gave a faint sad
smile. ‘He is.’
Grent nodded and
unwound himself from the stool. ‘Where will I find Corman? I’d like
to speak to him at once, before we see the First
Daughter.’
‘He will probably be in
the library at this hour, the archive annex. Ask anyone you see,
they will direct you to the place.’
Grent regarded his
master gravely. ‘I’ll come back and tell you my
decision.’
Pule returned his
straight look. ‘May the Dark bless you, lad.’
Leaving the infirmary
Grent found an elderly man sweeping the corridor just outside. He
asked for directions to the library. The man nodded and led him
through what felt like leagues of corridors, halls and public
galleries. Turning one corner Grent nearly crashed into the
Palace-Keeper Jenniah. She smiled when he explained his intent, his
erstwhile guide retreating back the way they’d come.
‘Here.’ She took him
only a few more paces to a plain door, opened it and indicated he
should enter.
Grent found himself in
an enormous room, filled with books, scroll cases and what looked
like piles of as yet unsorted books. Several tables were scattered
across the middle of the floor, one of which was occupied by three
women, their heads bent over books and a low murmur of discussion
arising from them. A man appeared beside him and Grent blinked. He
hadn’t heard or seen his approach. It was difficult to guess the
man’s age but Grent would have said he was older rather than
younger than he seemed. He wore a grey shirt of a silky soft
fabric, bordered with black at collar and cuffs. Grey trousers of
the same material were tucked into grey boots.
‘I am the Librarian,
Chindar. Is there something I can help you with?’
‘I’m Grent,
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