Lord of Lies

‘Indeed, but persuading them toward what end?’ Master Juwain asked. ‘Merely meeting in conclave? Making an alliance? Or making war?’

This word, dreadful and dark, stabbed into my heart like the long sword I wore at my side. It was as heavy and burdensome as the steel rings of the mail that encased my limbs and pulled me down toward the earth. Once, in my father’s castle, in my home, I had dressed otherwise, in simple tunics or even in my hunting greens. But now that I was Lord Guardian of the Lightstone, I went about armored at all times – especially with the Red Dragon’s priests waiting to get close to a small golden cup.

‘If we make an alliance,’ I told Master Juwain, ‘then perhaps we won’t have to make war.’

It was my deepest dream, I told myself, to end war – forever.

‘An alliance,’ Master Juwain said, shaking his head. ‘I’m afraid that the Red Dragon will never be defeated this way.’

‘It is not necessary to defeat him,’ I said. ‘At least not outright, in battle. It will be enough if we secure the Free Kingdoms. Then, with the Brotherhoods working at the Dragon Kingdoms from within, and the Alliance doing the same from without, the realms Morjin has conquered can be won back one by one.’

‘I see how your thinking has progressed since I went away.’

‘It is not just my thinking, sir. It’s that of my father and brothers.’

‘But what of the Lightstone, then?’

‘It is the Lightstone,’ I said, ‘that makes all this possible.’

‘But what of the one for whom the Lightstone was meant? Have you given thought, as I’ve asked, to this Shining One?’

Master Juwain poured our tea then. Through the steaming liquid, I watched the little bits of leaves swirl about and then settle into my cup.

‘There’s been thought of little else,’ I told him. ‘But the Free Kingdoms should be strengthened so that the Shining One can come forth without fear. Then Morjin will have much to fear.’

‘Indeed, he would,’ Master Juwain said. ‘But will the Red Dragon be content while you make alliance against him? Your way, I’m afraid, is that of the sword.’

‘Perhaps,’ I said, letting my hand rest on the seven diamonds set into the swan-carved hilt of my sword.

‘We’ve all seen enough evil for one lifetime, Val.’

I drew my sword then, and held it so that it caught the sunlight streaming in through the western window. Its long blade, wrought of silustria, shimmered like a silver mirror. Its edges were keen enough to cut steel even as the power of the silustria cut through darkness and gave me to see, sometimes, the truth of things. The sword’s maker had named it Alkaladur. In all the history of Ea, no greater work of gelstei had ever been accomplished, and none more beautiful.

‘This sword,’ I said to Master Juwain, ‘is not evil.’

‘No, perhaps not. But it can do evil things.’

Maram took a sip of his tea and grimaced at its bitterness.

Then he said, ‘There can’t be enough evil for Morjin and all his kind.’

‘Do not speak so,’ Master Juwain said, holding up his hand. ‘Please, Brother Maram, I ask you to –’

‘Sar Maram, I’m called now,’ Maram said, patting the sword that he wore sheathed at his side. It was a Valari kalama, like unto length and symmetry as my sword, only forged of the finest Godhran steel.

‘Sar Maram, then,’ Master Juwain murmured, bowing his bald head. ‘You mustn’t wish evil upon anyone – not even the Red Dragon himself.’

‘You say that? After he blinded Atara with his own hands? After what he did to you?’

‘I have another ear,’ Master Juwain told him, tapping his large, knotty finger against the side of his head. ‘And if I could, I’d wish to hear no talk of revenge.’

‘And that,’ Maram said, ‘is why you’re a master of the Brotherhood and I am, ah, what I am. Evil deserves evil, I say. Evil should be opposed by any means.’

‘By any means virtuous.’

‘But surely virtue is to be seen in the end to be accomplished. And what could be a greater good than the end of Morjin?’

‘The Red Dragon, I’m afraid, would agree with the first part of your argument. And that is why, Brother Maram, I must tell you that –’

‘Please, sir, call me Maram.’

‘All right,’ Master Juwain said with a troubled smile. Then he looked deep into Maram’s eyes and said, ‘To use evil, even in the battle against evil, is to become utterly consumed by it.’

I held my sword pointing north toward the castle’s great hall where the Lightstone was kept. Alkaladur’s silver gelstei flared white in resonance with the greater gold gelstei of which the cup was wrought. Its bright light drove back the hate that threatened to annihilate me whenever I thought of Morjin and how he had torn out the eyes of the woman I loved.

‘It is … not evil to guard the Lightstone for the Maitreya,’ I forced out, speaking the ancient name for the Shining One. In Ardik, Maitreya meant Lord of Light. ‘Can we not agree that this is our best means of fighting Morjin?’

I sheathed my sword and took a sip of tea. It was indeed bitter, but it cleared my head and cooled the wrath poisoning my heart.

‘Very well,’ Master Juwain said, ‘but I’m afraid we’ve little time for making alliances or battles. We must find the Maitreya before Morjin does. We must seek him out in whatever land has given him birth.’

At this, Maram took another sip of tea and smiled to try to hide the dread building inside him. ‘Ah, sir, it almost sounds as if you’re proposing another quest to find this Maitreya. Please tell me that you’re thinking of no such thing?’

‘A moment ago,’ Master Juwain reminded him, ‘you were ready to oppose Morjin in any way you could.’

‘I? I? No, no – you misunderstand me,’ Maram said. ‘I have already done my part in fighting Morjin. More than my part. We all have.’

I said nothing as I took a long sip of tea and gazed into Maram’s eyes.

‘Don’t look at me that way, Val!’ he said. He drained his cup in a sudden gulp, and banged it down upon the table. Then he stood up and began pacing about the room. ‘I don’t have your courage and devotion to truth. Ah, your faith in these great dreams of yours. I am just a man. And a rather delicate one at that. I’ve been bludgeoned by one of Morjin’s assassins, and nearly eaten by bears. And in the Vardaloon, I was eaten by every mosquito, leech and verminous thing in that accursed forest. I’ve been frozen, burnt, starved and nearly drained of blood. And the Stonefaces, ah, I don’t even want to speak of them! I’ve been shot with arrows …’

Here he paused to rub his fat rump, each half of which had been transfixed by a feathered shaft during the siege of Khaisham. To this day, he claimed, it pained him to sit on top of a horse – or on chairs.

‘Isn’t all this enough?’ he asked us. ‘No, no, my friends, if there’s another quest to be made, let someone else make it.’

I felt the ache in my side where one of Morjin’s assassins had run me through with a sword. In my veins stilled burned, and always would burn, the kirax poison that he had fired into me with an evil arrow shot out of the darkness of the woods. ‘We’ve all suffered, Maram,’ I said softly. ‘No one should ask that you suffer more.’

‘Ah, but you ask when you speak to me like that. When you look at me with those damn Valari eyes of yours.’

‘My apologies,’ I said, glancing down at the floor.

‘I just want to drink a little beer and write a few poems for Behira – what’s wrong with that?’

In truth, Maram liked to consume much more than a ‘little’ beer. Ever since we had returned to Mesh with the Lightstone, he had devoted his considerable passions toward savoring life. My brother, Asaru, often accused him of sloth, but he really worked very hard in his pursuit of pleasure, filling up each day of the week. Sunday nights, for instance, were for drinking, and sacred Oneday brought more beer and brandy. Moonday was equally holy, and Arday was needed to recover from so much holiness. Then came Eaday, which he reserved for walks in the mountains and rides through the forest – usually with his betrothed, Behira, or another beautiful young woman – so that he could worship the glories of the earth. Valday nights were for singing and stargazing in similar company, while on Asturday he wrote love poems, and on Sunday he rested yet again in preparation for the evening’s drinkfest.

I smiled at Maram’s peccadilloes, and so did Master Juwain, with curiosity as much as concern. Then he asked Maram, ‘And what of Behira, then? Have you set a date for the wedding?’

‘Ah, I’ve set at least three dates.’