Mirror Sight
Page 220
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“You are our great and mighty emperor,” Webster Silk said, “and that is what she recognizes.”
Amberhill smiled. Or was it Mornhavon? “Yes, I’ve destroyed the world and the people she knew.” A blank look, the fluttering of his eyes, then a painful whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“There is nothing to be sorry about, Your Eminence,” Webster Silk said hastily. He placed a hand on the emperor’s arm, probably the only person who dared touch him. He led Amberhill back toward his throne chair. “You have created a great empire. We are strong.”
“Yes, yes, of course I have.” Amberhill sat, looking baffled for a moment. “We are strong, aren’t we?” he asked the elder Silk, with uncertainty in his voice.
“Very strong.”
Mornhavon, Karigan thought, was not fully potent. He must fight for dominance over the other two personalities. Mornhavon by himself would have been pure malevolence. In this state, he was . . . diluted. Was there a way to get through to Amberhill? To help him dominate? Or a way to get through to that other unknown personality? If Mornhavon felt threatened, compromised, he might flee to another body, one of the Silks, possibly. Not at all a comforting thought. Yet, he remained with Amberhill. Why would he?
“I am bored,” Amberhill said, though Karigan did not think it was Amberhill or Mornhavon who spoke this time. She noticed the Adherents shifting nervously. Dr. Silk darted a glance at her. It was apparently not good to let the emperor get bored.
His gaze was leveled right at her. “Very bored.”
At that moment, the Eternal Guardian, who had remained still as a statue until now, leaned toward Amberhill and spoke too low for her to make out words. Amberhill nodded, and the Guardian then spoke to one of the nearby guards. The guard hastened from the throne room.
“We shall have a contest,” Amberhill boomed, “and we will see what this weak girl is capable of. Wagers, gentlemen?”
A contest? What kind of contest? she wondered, biting her bottom lip. She forced herself to stand tall, fought anxiety. Did not want them to see her fear.
The Adherents talked among themselves, making wagers, while Dr. Silk visibly fretted beside her. “This is not what I intended,” he said.
His words did not help. Any confidence Karigan’s uniform had brought her was waning, sapped by the cold, and Mornhavon’s presence, and now the threat of this contest. How did she ever get to be in this place? Well, she knew, but still . . .
Amberhill did not participate in the wagering. Instead, he seemed to derive pleasure from her uncertainty and fear, and fed off it.
The guard that had been sent away returned quickly, and what he carried with him took her by surprise.
“What?” Dr. Silk said. “We can’t use that, it’s a valuable artifact.”
“And your Green Rider is not?” Amberhill asked. “It all belongs to me anyway, and I can use it as I wish.”
Dr. Silk bowed. “Of course, Your Eminence. I forget myself.”
“Do not do so again.”
“I won’t, Your Eminence.”
What the guard carried in was Karigan’s bonewood staff, and a second staff of a lighter wood.
“It will be a contest of the Eternal Guardian against the Green Rider,” Amberhill announced. “With staves. But not to the death, as our living artifact may have other, future value.”
Karigan had no idea what “future value” she might represent to him, and she didn’t want to know, but she was glad to find out this was not to be a fight to the death. Still, though she had fought and trained with Weapons, she had no idea what the Eternal Guardian was capable of, or even if he was human.
The bonewood was brought to Karigan, and the guard told her, “Any use of this for anything other than your contest with the Eternal Guardian, and you will be shot. We will have guns trained on you at all times. Do you understand?”
Karigan nodded and took the bonewood into hands stiff with cold. The wood warmed, seemed to hum in her grip. Despite the circumstances, it was good to have a familiar object to hold. It had been her companion all the way through Blackveil. It was solid, reliable, and deadly. If not for all the guards with their guns, she bet she could take on almost anyone in this throne room.
“Don’t get too damaged,” Dr. Silk warned her, before clearing out of the way to give room for the bout.
“Thank you for your concern,” she mumbled.
The Eternal Guardian stood before her. Though he was no taller than an ordinary man, his bearing made him seem a giant. He did not remove helm or armor, but he’d handed his swordbelt over to one of the other guards. Karigan wondered only briefly why he did not carry a gun, like all the others.
“Where is my armor?” she asked. “It hardly seems fair not to have any.”
He did not answer, there was only the hiss-sigh of the mechanism on his back. She knew this contest was not about fairness, anyway. He raised his staff at the starting position and waited. If they did not mean for her to get killed in this bout, they meant to be entertained by the spectacle of the big, strong Guardian fighting the weak female from the past, who had the temerity not to wear a veil. Well, entertain them she would. Let them see she could wield a staff.
She flexed her hands around the staff and stepped up to the Guardian. His eyes flickered as he blinked behind his visor. They touched off and began.
The Guardian did not hesitate. He did not take time to size her up. He simply attacked. Karigan barely deflected the blow to her mid-section and found herself desperately parrying a series of sophisticated moves. She was cold, stiff, slow. The icy floor caused her to slip and slide when she tried to maneuver away from the attack. The Guardian appeared to have no problem with his footing. He was like a stout tree rooted in the floor, she a pebble skittering across ice.
Amberhill smiled. Or was it Mornhavon? “Yes, I’ve destroyed the world and the people she knew.” A blank look, the fluttering of his eyes, then a painful whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“There is nothing to be sorry about, Your Eminence,” Webster Silk said hastily. He placed a hand on the emperor’s arm, probably the only person who dared touch him. He led Amberhill back toward his throne chair. “You have created a great empire. We are strong.”
“Yes, yes, of course I have.” Amberhill sat, looking baffled for a moment. “We are strong, aren’t we?” he asked the elder Silk, with uncertainty in his voice.
“Very strong.”
Mornhavon, Karigan thought, was not fully potent. He must fight for dominance over the other two personalities. Mornhavon by himself would have been pure malevolence. In this state, he was . . . diluted. Was there a way to get through to Amberhill? To help him dominate? Or a way to get through to that other unknown personality? If Mornhavon felt threatened, compromised, he might flee to another body, one of the Silks, possibly. Not at all a comforting thought. Yet, he remained with Amberhill. Why would he?
“I am bored,” Amberhill said, though Karigan did not think it was Amberhill or Mornhavon who spoke this time. She noticed the Adherents shifting nervously. Dr. Silk darted a glance at her. It was apparently not good to let the emperor get bored.
His gaze was leveled right at her. “Very bored.”
At that moment, the Eternal Guardian, who had remained still as a statue until now, leaned toward Amberhill and spoke too low for her to make out words. Amberhill nodded, and the Guardian then spoke to one of the nearby guards. The guard hastened from the throne room.
“We shall have a contest,” Amberhill boomed, “and we will see what this weak girl is capable of. Wagers, gentlemen?”
A contest? What kind of contest? she wondered, biting her bottom lip. She forced herself to stand tall, fought anxiety. Did not want them to see her fear.
The Adherents talked among themselves, making wagers, while Dr. Silk visibly fretted beside her. “This is not what I intended,” he said.
His words did not help. Any confidence Karigan’s uniform had brought her was waning, sapped by the cold, and Mornhavon’s presence, and now the threat of this contest. How did she ever get to be in this place? Well, she knew, but still . . .
Amberhill did not participate in the wagering. Instead, he seemed to derive pleasure from her uncertainty and fear, and fed off it.
The guard that had been sent away returned quickly, and what he carried with him took her by surprise.
“What?” Dr. Silk said. “We can’t use that, it’s a valuable artifact.”
“And your Green Rider is not?” Amberhill asked. “It all belongs to me anyway, and I can use it as I wish.”
Dr. Silk bowed. “Of course, Your Eminence. I forget myself.”
“Do not do so again.”
“I won’t, Your Eminence.”
What the guard carried in was Karigan’s bonewood staff, and a second staff of a lighter wood.
“It will be a contest of the Eternal Guardian against the Green Rider,” Amberhill announced. “With staves. But not to the death, as our living artifact may have other, future value.”
Karigan had no idea what “future value” she might represent to him, and she didn’t want to know, but she was glad to find out this was not to be a fight to the death. Still, though she had fought and trained with Weapons, she had no idea what the Eternal Guardian was capable of, or even if he was human.
The bonewood was brought to Karigan, and the guard told her, “Any use of this for anything other than your contest with the Eternal Guardian, and you will be shot. We will have guns trained on you at all times. Do you understand?”
Karigan nodded and took the bonewood into hands stiff with cold. The wood warmed, seemed to hum in her grip. Despite the circumstances, it was good to have a familiar object to hold. It had been her companion all the way through Blackveil. It was solid, reliable, and deadly. If not for all the guards with their guns, she bet she could take on almost anyone in this throne room.
“Don’t get too damaged,” Dr. Silk warned her, before clearing out of the way to give room for the bout.
“Thank you for your concern,” she mumbled.
The Eternal Guardian stood before her. Though he was no taller than an ordinary man, his bearing made him seem a giant. He did not remove helm or armor, but he’d handed his swordbelt over to one of the other guards. Karigan wondered only briefly why he did not carry a gun, like all the others.
“Where is my armor?” she asked. “It hardly seems fair not to have any.”
He did not answer, there was only the hiss-sigh of the mechanism on his back. She knew this contest was not about fairness, anyway. He raised his staff at the starting position and waited. If they did not mean for her to get killed in this bout, they meant to be entertained by the spectacle of the big, strong Guardian fighting the weak female from the past, who had the temerity not to wear a veil. Well, entertain them she would. Let them see she could wield a staff.
She flexed her hands around the staff and stepped up to the Guardian. His eyes flickered as he blinked behind his visor. They touched off and began.
The Guardian did not hesitate. He did not take time to size her up. He simply attacked. Karigan barely deflected the blow to her mid-section and found herself desperately parrying a series of sophisticated moves. She was cold, stiff, slow. The icy floor caused her to slip and slide when she tried to maneuver away from the attack. The Guardian appeared to have no problem with his footing. He was like a stout tree rooted in the floor, she a pebble skittering across ice.
