Lord of Lies

Master Juwain pushed back his chair, stood and went over to Maram. He rested his hand on his arm and asked, ‘What’s wrong? I thought you loved Behira?’

‘Ah, I do love her – I’m certain I do. More than I’ve ever loved any woman. In fact, I’m nearly certain that she’s the one I’ve been seeking all my life. It’s just that …’

His voice trailed off as he reached into a deep pocket of his tunic and removed a red crystal nearly a foot in length. It was six-sided and pointed at either end; a large crack ran down its center, and a webwork of smaller ones radiated out from it so that no part of the crystal remained untouched. With this great gelstei, Maram had wounded the dragon, Angraboda, in the deeps of Argattha. But the great blast of fire had broken the crystal so that it would unleash fire no more.

‘My poor firestone,’ he lamented, squeezing the red crystal. ‘I had hoped to find, in the Cup of Heaven, the secret of how it might be mended or forged anew. But I’ve failed.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t understand,’ Master Juwain said.

Maram gazed at the crystal and said, ‘As with this firestone, so with my heart. There’s a crack there, you see. Some fundamental flaw in my being. Every time I look at Behira, love flows into me like fire. But I can’t quite hold it. I had hoped to find in the Lightstone a way that I could. The way to make love last: that’s the secret of the universe.’

Maram, I thought, was no different to anyone else. Everyone who stood before the Lightstone sought the realization of his deepest desire. But no one, it seemed, knew how to unlock the secrets of this blessed, golden vessel.

‘I see, I see,’ Master Juwain said. Then he reached into the pocket of his tunic. He brought out an emerald crystal, much smaller than Maram’s, and stood looking at it. He said, ‘Don’t give up hope just yet.’

‘Why, do you propose to heal my heart with that?’

Master Juwain studied the green gelstei that he had gained on our quest. With it, he had healed Atara of a mortal wound, as he had more minor ones torn into Maram’s and my flesh. But too often the gelstei failed him. I knew that he dreamed the Lightstone might infinitely magnify the power of his healing crystal.

‘I wish I could,’ Master Juwain told Maram. ‘But you see, I’ve little more knowledge of how the Lightstone might be used than you do.’

‘Then your journey was unsuccessful?’

‘No, I wouldn’t quite say that. In fact, I discovered several things of great interest in Nar.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘Well, to begin with, it’s becoming ever clearer that only the Maitreya will show what the Lightstone is really for.’

Here he turned toward me, and his large eyes filled with a soft, silver radiance. ‘And you, Val – what have you found in the Lightstone?’

‘More than I ever dreamed,’ I said. ‘But less than I hoped.’

Maram had said that love is the secret of the universe. But why did the One, in love, give us life only to take it away in the bitterness of death?

‘I have looked for the secret of life,’ I admitted.

‘And what have you found?’

‘That it’s a mystery no man will ever solve.’

‘Nothing else?’

I stood up and walked over to look out the window. Above Silvassu – above all the world – Telshar’s white diamond peak was gleaming in the light of the late sun.

‘There have been moments,’ I said at last. ‘Once or twice, while I stood looking at the Lightstone, meditating – these bright moments. When the gold of the cup turns clear as diamond. And inside it, there is … everything. All the stars in the universe. I can’t tell you how bright is their light. It fell upon me like the stroke of a shining sword that brought joy instead of death. I was alive as I’ve never been alive before, and every particle of my being seemed to blaze like the sun. And then, for a moment, the light, myself – there was no difference. It was all as one.’

As Maram pulled at his beard, Master Juwain listened quietly and waited for me to say more. Then he spoke with a strange gravity: ‘You should mark well the miracle of these moments. We all should.’

‘Why, sir? Others have experienced similar things. I’m no different to anyone else.’

‘Aren’t you?’

He stepped closer to me and studied the scar cut into my forehead. It was shaped like a lightning bolt, the result of a wound to my flesh during the violence of my birth.

‘It was you,’ he said, ‘who found the Lightstone in the darkness of Argattha when it was invisible to everyone else. As it had remained invisible for all of an age.’

‘Please, sir – we shouldn’t speak of this again.’

‘No, I’m afraid we must speak of it, before it’s too late. You see, Master Sebastian –’

‘He’s a great astrologer,’ I admitted. I hated interrupting Master Juwain, or anyone, but I had gone too far to stop. ‘His knowledge is very great, but a man’s fate can’t be set by the stars.’

‘No, perhaps not set, as a chisel’s mark in stone,’ Master Juwain said. ‘It is more like a jeweled tapestry. All that is, or ever will be, is part of it. And each golden thread, each diamond woven into it, reflects the light of all the others. There is only one pattern, one master pattern, as I’ve said a hundred times. As above, so below. The stars, from where we came, mark the place we will return to. And mark it in patterns within the one pattern resonant with the patterns of our lives. Your life, Val, has already been marked out from all others. Everyone has seen this, in who you are, in what you’ve done. But Master Sebastian has seen it in the stars.’

He motioned for Maram and me to follow him across the room to where a large desk stood facing the wall. Many old books were heaped on top of it. One was a genealogy of the noble Valari families; another was entitled, simply: The Lesser Gelstei. The largest book was Master Juwain’s prized copy of the Saganom Elu, bound in ancient leather. He had placed it, and other books, so that they weighted down the corners of a scroll of parchment. Inked onto its yellow-white surface was a great wheel of a circle, divided by lines like slices of a pie. Other lines formed squares within the circle, and there was a single, equal-sided triangle, too. Around the circle’s edge were written various arcane symbols which I took to represent other worlds or the greatest of the heavens’ constellations.

‘Before I left for Nar,’ Master Juwain said to me, ‘I asked Master Sebastian to work up this horoscope from the reported hour of your birth.’ Here he stabbed his finger at a cluster of symbols at the top of the circle. ‘Do you see how your sun is at the midheaven in the constellation of the Archer? This is the sign of a soul that streaks out like an arrow of light to touch the stars. At the midheaven also is Aos, and this is an indication of a great spiritual teacher. And there also, Niran, which portends a spiritual master or great king. Their conjunction is striking and very strong.’

As the afternoon deepened toward evening, and Maram bent over the desk with me, breathing in my ear, Master Juwain went on to point out other features of my horoscope: the grand trine formed by Elad, Tyra and my moon; my moon, itself, in the Crab Constellation, indicating deep and powerful passions for life that I kept hidden inside to protect myself and avoid hurting others; my Siraj in the castle of service in the sign of the Ram, which marked me out as a man who blazed new paths for others to follow. Directly across the circle from it was to be found my Shahar, planet of vision and transcendence. Its opposition with Siraj, according to Master Juwain, told of the great war that I waged inside myself – and with the world.

‘We see here the paradox of your life, Val. That you, who love others so deeply, have been forced to slay so many.’

The sword I wore at my side suddenly felt unbearably heavy. The silustria of its blade was so hard and smooth that blood would not cling to it or stain it. I wished the same were true of my soul.

‘And this conflict runs even deeper,’ Master Juwain continued. ‘It would be as if your soul is pulled in two directions, between the glories of the earth and the still light at the center of all things. In a sense, between life and death.’

As Master Juwain paused to take a deep breath, I felt my heart beating hard and painfully inside me. And then he said, ‘For one born beneath stars such as yours, it is necessary to die in order to be reborn – as the Silver Swan emerges with wings of light from the flames of its own funeral pyre. Such a one is rare, indeed. A master astrologer, and many men, might call him the Shining One.’

Sweat was now running down my sides in hot streams beneath my armor. I could scarcely breathe, so I pushed back from the desk and moved over to the window for some fresh air. I fairly drank in the wind pouring down from the mountains. Then I turned to Master Juwain and said, ‘What did you mean he might be called the Shining One?’

‘You see, your horoscope is certainly that of a great man, and almost that of a Maitreya.’

‘Almost? Then –’

Before I could say more, the faint fall of footsteps sounded in the hall outside the door, punctuated by the sound of wood striking stone. Master Juwain, who had a mind like the gears of a clock, smiled as if satisfied by the result of some secret calculation.

‘You see,’ he said by way of explanation, ‘I’ve asked for help in deciding this matter.’

There came a soft rapping at the door. Master Juwain crossed the room and opened it. Then he invited inside a small, old woman who stepped carefully as she tapped a wooden cane ahead of her.

‘Nona!’ I cried out. It was my grandmother, Ayasha Elahad. I rushed across the room to embrace her frail body. Then I placed her arm around mine, and led her over to one of the chairs at the tea table. ‘Where is Chaya? You shouldn’t go walking about by yourself.’

I spoke the name of the maidservant who had volunteered to help my grandmother negotiate the castle’s numerous corridors and treacherous stone stairs. For during the half year of my journey, my grandmother had lost her sight almost overnight: now the white frost of cataracts iced over both her eyes. But strangely, although the cataracts kept out the light of the world, they could not quite keep within a deeper and sweeter light. Her essential goodness set my heart to hurting with the sweetest of pains, as it always did. I had often thought of her as the source of love in my family – as the sun is the source of life on earth.

While Maram and I sat at the table on either side of her, Master Juwain made her tea, peppermint with honey, as she requested. He set a new pot and cup before her and made sure that she could reach it easily. I knew that he lamented being unable to heal her of her affliction.

My grandmother held herself with great dignity as she carefully moved her hand from the edge of the table toward her cup. Then she said to me, ‘I sent Chaya away. There is no reason to burden her, and I must learn to get about by myself. Sixty-two years I’ve lived here, ever since your grandfather captured my heart and asked me to marry him. I think I know this castle as well as anyone. Now if you please, may we speak of more important things?’

She slowly turned her head as if looking for Master Juwain. Then, to Maram and me, Master Juwain said, ‘I’ve asked the Queen Mother to come here so that she might tell of Val’s birth.’

As far as I knew, three woman had attended my entrance to the world: my grandmother and the midwife, Amorah – and, of course, my mother, who had nearly died giving me life.

My grandmother breathed on the hot tea before taking a long sip of it. Then she said, ‘Six sons Queen Elianora had already borne for my son, the king. Val was the last, and so he should have been the easiest, but he was the hardest. The biggest, too. Amorah, may she abide with the One, said that he’d baked too long in the oven. She finally had to use the tongs to pull Val out. They cut his forehead, as you can see.’

Although she could no longer see, she tilted her head as if listening for the sound of my breath. Then, with only slight hesitation, she leaned forward, and her hand found the top of my head. Her palm moved slowly down my forehead as she found the scar there, then she traced the cold zags with her warm and trembling finger.

‘But what can you tell us,’ Master Juwain said, ‘about the hour of Val’s birth?’

My grandmother hesitated a little longer this time before touching my cheek, then withdrawing her hand to pull at the soft folds of skin around her neck. ‘He was born with the sun high in the sky, at the noon hour, as was recorded.’

Both Master Juwain and I turned to glance at the parchment still spread across the nearby desk. Then the heat of Master Juwain’s gaze fell upon my grandmother as he asked her, ‘Then it was at this hour that Val drew his first breath?’

Master Juwain’s eyes gleamed as if he were about to solve an ancient puzzle. He watched my grandmother, who sat in silence as my heart beat ten times. Finally, she said, ‘No, Val drew his first breath an hour before that. You see, the birth was so hard, he had trouble breathing at all. He was so cold and blue it made me weep. For an hour, Amorah and I thought that he would go over to the other world. At last, though, at noon, his little life quickened. When we knew the fire wouldn’t go out, we announced his birth.’

In the sudden quiet of Master Juwain’s chamber, twenty-one years after the day that my grandmother had told of, my breathing had stopped yet again. Master Juwain and Maram were staring at me. My grandmother seemed to be staring at me, too.

‘The Morning Star burned brightly that day,’ she continued. ‘It shone almost like a second sun from before dawn all through the morning, as it does once every hundred years. And so my grandson was named Valashu, after that beautiful star.’

Master Juwain stood up and marched over to the desk. He gathered up the parchment and a similar one that had lain concealed beneath it. After tucking a large, musty book beneath his arm, he marched back toward us.

‘Maram,’ he called, ‘please clear the table for me.’

I helped Maram clear the pots and cups from the tea table. Then Master Juwain spread both parchments on top of it, side by side. He stepped back over to the desk and returned with a few more books to hold them down.

‘Look,’ he said, pointing at the first horoscope that we had already studied. Then he traced his finger around the circle and symbols of the second parchment. As we could see, the array was nearly the same. ‘I confess that I guessed what the Queen Mother has just disclosed today. And so before I left for Nar, I asked Master Sebastian to work up this second horoscope.’

Now his finger trembled with excitement as he touched two small symbols written at the edge of the circle described upon the second parchment. ‘Here, of course, is the Morning Star, as on the first horoscope. But here, too – look closely – the stars of the Swan are rising in the east at Val’s earlier and true hour of birth.’

Master Juwain straightened and stood like a warrior who has vanquished a foe. He said, ‘There are other changes to the horoscope, but this is the critical one. Master Sebastian has advised me that the effect of the Swan rising would be to exalt and raise the purity of Val’s entire horoscope. He has said that these are certainly the stars of a Maitreya.’

I couldn’t help staring at the two parchments. The late sun through the windows glared off their whitish surface and stabbed into my eyes.

‘It’s possible, isn’t it,’ I said, ‘that many men, at many times, would have a similar horoscope?’

‘No, not many men, Val.’

Master Juwain now brought forth the book from beneath his arm. As he opened it and began turning its yellow pages with great care, I noticed the title, written in ancient Ardik: The Coming Of The Shining One. At last, he reached the page he had been seeking. He smiled as he set down the book next to the second parchment.

‘I found this in the library of the Brotherhood’s sanctuary at Nar. It was always a rare book, and with the burning of Khaisham’s Library, it might be the last copy remaining in the world.’ He tapped his finger against the symbol-written circle inscribed on the book’s open page. ‘This is the horoscope of Godavanni the Glorious. Look, Val, look!’

Godavanni had been the greatest of Ea’s Maitreyas, born at the end of the great Age of Law three thousand years before. He had also been, as I remembered, a great King of Kings. I gasped in wonder because the two horoscopes, Godavanni’s and mine, were exactly the same.

‘No,’ I murmured, ‘it cannot be.’

For my grandmother’s sake, Master Juwain explained again the features of my horoscope – and Godavanni’s. Then he turned to Maram and said, ‘You see, our quest to find the new Maitreya might already be completed.’

‘Ah, Val,’ Maram said as he pulled at his beard and gazed at me. ‘Ah, Val, Val.’

My grandmother reached out her hand and squeezed mine. Then she set it on top of the parchments, fumbling to feel the lines of the symbols written on them.

‘Here,’ I said, gently pressing her fingertip against the rays denoting the Morning Star. ‘Is this what you wanted?’

There was both joy and sadness in her smile as she turned to face me. Her ivory skin was so worn and old that it seemed almost transparent. The smell of lilacs emanated from her wispy white hair. The cataracts over her eyes clouded their deep sable color, but could not conceal the bright thing inside her, almost too bright to bear. Her breath poured like a warm wind from her lips, and I could feel the way that she had breathed it into me at my birth, pressing her lips over mine. I could feel the beating of her heart. There was a sharp pain there. It hurt me to feel her hurting so, with sorrow because she was blind and could not look upon me in what seemed my hour of glory. My eyes filled with water and burning salt a moment before hers did, too. And then, as if she knew well enough what had passed between us, she reached out her hand to touch away the tears on my cheek that she could not see.

‘It was this way with your grandfather, too,’ she said. ‘You have his gift.’

She gave voice to a thing that we had never spoken of before. For many years it had remained our secret. During the quest, however, Master Juwain and Maram – and my other companions – had discovered what my grandmother called my gift: that what others feel, I feel as well. If I let myself, their joy became my joy, their love flowed into me like the warm, onstreaming rays of the sun. But I was open to darker passions as well: hatred, pain, fury, fear. For my gift was also a curse. How many times on the journey to Argattha, I wondered, had Master Juwain and Maram watched me nearly die with every enemy I had sent on to the otherworld in the screaming agony of death?

My grandmother, as if explaining to Master Juwain and Maram something that she thought it was time for them to know, smiled sadly and said, ‘It was this way with Valashu from his first breath: it was as if he were breathing in all the pain in the world. It was why, at first, he failed to quicken and almost died.’

For what seemed an hour, I sat next to her in silence holding her hand in mine. And then, to Master Juwain and Maram, to me – to the whole world – she cried out: ‘He’s my grandson and has the heart of an angel – shouldn’t this be enough?’

My gift, this mysterious soul force within me, had a name, an ancient name, and that was valarda. I remembered that this meant ‘the heart of the stars’.

As Master Juwain looked down at the two parchments, and Maram’s soft, brown eyes searched in mine, I kissed my grandmother’s forehead, then excused myself. I stood up and moved over to the open window. The warm wind brought the smell of pine trees and earth into the room. It called me to remember who I really was. And that could not be, I thought, the Maitreya. Was I a great healer? No, I was a knight of the sword, a great slayer of men. Who knew as well as I did the realm of death where I had sent so many? In the last moment of life, each of my enemies had grasped at me and pulled me down toward that lightless land. I remembered lines of the poem that had tormented me since the day I had killed Morjin’s assassin in the woods below the castle:

The stealing of the gold, The evil knife, the cold – The cold that freezes breath, The nothingness of death. And down into the dark, No eyes, no lips, no spark. The dying of the light, The neverness of night.

Even now, in the warmth of a fine spring day, I felt this everlasting cold chilling my limbs and filling me with dread. The night that knows no end called to me, even as the voices of the dead carried along the wind. They spoke to me in grave tones, telling me that I waited to be one of them – and that I could not be the Shining One, for he was of the sun and earth and all the things of life. A deeper voice, like the fire of the far-off stars, whispered this inside me, too. I did not listen. For just then, with my quick breath burning my lips and Telshar’s diamond peak so beautiful against the sky, I recalled the words to another poem, about the Maitreya:

To mortal men on planets bound Who dream and die on darkened ground, To bold and bright Valari knights Who cross the starry heavens’ heights, To all: immortal Elijin As well the quenchless Galadin, He brings the light that slays the Lie: The light of love makes death to die.

‘“It is said that the Maitreya shall have eternal life”,’ I whispered, quoting from the Book of Ages of the Saganom Elu.

It was also said that he would show this way to others. How else, I wondered, did men gain the long lives of the Star People and learn to sail the glittering heavens? And how did the Star People advance to the order of the immortal Elijin, and the Elijin become the great Galadin, they who could not be killed or harmed in any way? Men called these beings angels, but they were of flesh and blood – and perhaps something more. Once, in the depths of the black mountain called Skartaru, I had seen a great Elijin lord unveiled in all his glory. Had the hand of a Maitreya once touched him and passed on the inextinguishable flame?

Master Juwain stood up and came over to me, laying his hand on my arm. I turned to him and asked, ‘If I were the Maitreya, wouldn’t I know this?’

He smiled as he hefted his copy of the Saganom Elu and began thumbing through its pages. Whether by chance or intuition, he came upon words that were close to the questioning of my heart:

The Shining One In innocence sleeps Inside his heart Angel fire sleeps And when he wakes The fire leaps About the Maitreya One thing is known: That to himself He always is known When the moment comes To claim the Lightstone.

‘But that’s just it, sir,’ I said to him. ‘I don’t know this.’

He closed his book and looked deep into my eyes. He said, ‘In you, Val, there is such a fire. And such an innocence that you’ve never seen it.’

‘But, sir, I –’

‘I think we do know,’ he told me. ‘The evidence is overwhelming. First, there is your horoscope, the Swan rising, which purifies – wasn’t it only by purifying yourself that you were able to find the Lightstone? And you are the seventh son of a king of the most noble and ancient line. And there is the mark.’ He paused to touch the lightning bolt scar above my eye. ‘The mark of Valoreth – the mark of the Galadin.’

Just then a swirl of little, twinkling lights fell out of the air as of a storm of shooting stars. In its spiraling patterns were colors of silver, cerulean and scarlet. It hovered near my forehead as if studying the scar there. Joy and faith and other fiery emotions seemed to pour from its center in bursts of radiance. This strange being was one of the Timpum, and Maram had named him Flick. He had attached himself to me in a magical wood deep in the wild forest of Alonia. It was said that once, many ages ago, the bright Galadin had walked there, perhaps looking for the greatest and last of Ea’s Maitreyas: the Cosmic Maitreya who might lead all the worlds across the stars into the Age of Light. It was also said that the Galadin had left part of their essence shimmering among the wood’s flowers and great trees. Whatever the origins of the Timpum truly were, they did indeed seem to possess the fire of the angels.