That was not what Elyon wanted to hear. “Prince Devrin told me a week would be enough. It’s been longer, my lady. Are you certain…”
“Certain? Do I look like the sort of person who’s certain about anything? Maybe they’re there. Maybe not. Maybe they’ve turned back. Maybe they’re dead.” She shrugged her bony shoulders, and her bush of wild greying hair bobbed up and down. Elyon half expected some birds to come flapping out of it. “But you’ll find out, won’t you? That’s why you’re here. To fly up there and give them the Eye.”
He nodded. “Yes. We’ve come a long way, and…”
“And far enough, maybe? I’m Sevrin’s sister, and I’ve got the same blood as he does. Well, maybe not all the same. There was always a rumour that Sevrin was Godrin’s son, same as Hadrin, but no one really believed it. Godrin would never have betrayed his brother Tayrin. He was our father, Sevrin and me. Well, me, certainly. Sevrin…” She shrugged. “Mayhaps he’s my cousin and not my brother, but it all comes down to the same thing in the end, doesn’t it? We’re all much alike as you can see. Not a comely flock, no…well, Devrin’s handsome enough and that lackwit sister of his too, but only because their mother was a beauty. Not as beautiful as your mother, though…no, who was? Ah…the Lady Kessia,” she swooned. “Was there ever a finer-looking woman? I hear your little sister’s much the spit of her, as you’re the spit of your father, is that right?”
“It is said.”
“Amilia’s a real beauty too. The Jewel of Tukor. Oh, she is some looker. And was to wed your brother, I know, until…well, best not get into that.” She slurped more wine. “But you’re still here, and quite the hero. Is she in love with you, do you think?”
The question took him quite off guard. “Amilia? No. Of course not. She sees me as a brother.”
“You’re certain? Quite certain?” She leaned forward, peering at him. “Hmmmm, I’m not so sure, but let’s hope you’re right for Devrin’s sake. He is quite taken with her, you know.”
Elyon had noticed that when last they were here. “Yes, I…”
“Anyway, what was I saying?” the mad woman barrelled on. “Far enough, yes…maybe you’ve come far enough? If you’ve got the Eye of Rasalan with you, maybe I can see through it? I’ve got some experience with balls and orbs, you know.” She cackled again. “No, truly…I have seen it once or twice when Uncle Godrin showed me. I was just a little girl back then, but he said some curious things. ‘One day you’ll help shape the future, sweet Cristin,’ he told me. And I was sweet back then. A sweet girl, always smiling. I’ve turned sour now, and strange, I’m told. Do you find me strange, Elyon Daecar?”
He did not know what to say to that. Sidestepping the question seemed best. “My lady. Do you know what your uncle meant, when he said that?”
“That I’d help shape the future?” She smiled at him queerly, as though she knew something he did not. “Well…my uncle was always terribly cryptic, Elyon. Perhaps he knew I would become queen. That would be enough to shape the future, would it not? Or something much more simple than that. When you give a starving child some food, and they live, and go on to do great things, you shape the future. When you stop someone before they commit great evil, you shape the future. A gift can shape the future, would you not say?”
He was not sure what she meant. “A gift, my lady?”
“A gift, yes. If I gifted you a great weapon for you to slay your enemies, that would shape the future. If I gifted you knowledge, that would too. It is power, they say, the knowing of things. Words are power. And goodness, my uncle liked words. Words and riddles and puzzles and mysteries. Everything he saw in the Eye.” She looked at Elyon for a good long while, reflecting on something, some old memory. She seemed very sad all of a sudden. Then she broke out of it and waved a hand. “So, the Eye. Come then, let’s see it.” She pointed to a small table set before her. “Right there will do.”
Elyon saw no reason to refuse her, and nor did he have that right. Her name was on that great golden tree, after all, and Thala’s blood ran richly through her veins. He motioned to Walter to open the bag on his back, and the scruffy scribe did as bidden, drawing it from its cloth wrappings inside and placing it on the table before her. Her dark eyes reflected its gold and blue glow, swirling within the orb. Veins of golden light spread from the thin black pupil, shut tight to Elyon’s eyes, and to Walter’s as well, but to her?
Elyon watched, curious. He thought of those words Godrin told her. Was she lying about them? Misremembering? Was that just the sort of thing a kindly old uncle would say to a sweet young niece, to inspire and nurture her? One day you’ll help shape the future. Maybe he was talking about the Eye. And this moment. Perhaps she would see something to show the way?
Silence enrobed the chamber. The crone princess stared long and true at the orb, smiling in that odd way of hers, stroking a hand across its surface. Her gaze moved here and there as though following the swirls of blue and golden light, admiring their languid motion. Her eyes narrowed and her weaselly face scrunched up, and it seemed to Elyon that she was holding her breath and, frankly, trying too hard.
“My lady, if I may.”
“You may not. Be silent, Elyon Daecar. I am trying to concentrate.” She glared up at him, then returned her eyes to the pupil, willing it to open. Elyon’s hope faded. He had the distinct sense that he was wasting his time. At last the woman gave out a whooshing breath and leaned back, irritated. “Stupid thing. It’s broken. Where have you been keeping it? Down in some dusty old vault, I’m told. Well, you’ve ruined it. Oh, the colours shift prettily enough, but that pupil’s closed, and closed for good. Rasalan wants no further part of this. We’re on our own, yes we are.”
Elyon wouldn’t believe it. “Your brother may have better fortune,” he said. Or cousin. That about Godrin being his sire…
“He will try, of course. Sevrin always tries hard, not like me. That’s if you find him.”
“We will.” Elyon gestured for Walter to take back the Eye of Rasalan. Just the words of a kind uncle, he decided. The woman would be no help to him. He waited for Walter to return the Eye into the bag, and then inclined himself into a bow. “We will be on our way, Your Highness. Thank you for the wine and the warmth.”
“You’re going already?”
“Yes. There are hours of daylight left, and I would prefer to make haste.” He dipped his chin and stepped toward the door, Walter following.
“Wait,” Cristin said.
Elyon stopped, sighing, and turned. “Yes, my lady?”
“I haven’t yet given you your gift.” She clipped her fingers and her servant materialised from an alcove. Cristin whispered something in the man’s ear, and he slipped away once more, returning a moment later with a small wooden box in his hands. “Come,” the crone said, waving Elyon over. “For you, my handsome prince. The gift is inside.”
Elyon moved forward, intrigued. He took the box, wondering if this was just another part of her theatrics. A gift can shape the future, he thought. The box was plain, scratched, its hinges starting to rust. They creaked shrilly as Elyon opened the lid and looked within. A scroll? He reached in and took it out. It was old, sealed, dusty. The seal was the king’s. “What is this?” he whispered.
“A warhammer. What do you think it is? You have eyes, don’t you?”
“I meant…” He turned it over between his fingers. The seal had not been broken. There was no indication that it was addressed to him. “It’s for me?”
“Yes.”
“From…”
“My uncle Godrin,” she said.
“Godrin? But…”
“But he’s dead. I know. A while ago now. Did you ever meet him?”
Elyon shook his head. “I never had the pleasure,” he murmured, looking at the scroll.
“A pleasure it would have been…or a pain. My sweet old uncle was like that. Some men could not abide his riddles.” She drank her wine. “He said some curious things to me, as I told you. I’d help shape the future. That was one. Another was that one day I’d live in this very chamber, right here in the palace. I’d live here and a handsome prince would come, swooping from the skies. Well…you can imagine how that made a little girl feel. A handsome prince? Coming for me? Goodness, what could be more exciting? Trouble was, I didn’t live in the palace back then. So I went to my father…the gods know how many times I went to him…and asked if we could come live here too, so I could be here in this bedchamber for when my handsome prince arrived, but no…he would never have it. ‘My brother is the king, not me,’ he would say. He was bitter about that, being the younger brother, so he’d had us moved out of the city and over to Bleakrock instead. Dismal place. Well, it’s in the name, isn’t it? Have you ever been? Well good, don’t bother. It’s drear and cold and always wet. I hated it, and for a time I hated my father for making me live there. ‘There’s a handsome prince coming for me,’ I’d tell him. ‘But only to the palace. I have to live in the palace’.
“Well, he didn’t care for that. Nonsense, he called it. More lies from his older brother. He saw me for what I was, I suppose. Just an ugly little girl, with a weasel face and frizzy hair, and not all that important. Mayhaps he’d have made me a good pairing when I grew older, but no, I wanted this prince, this handsome prince who’d fly to my bedchamber. It was a dream for me, and became an obsession. So much so that one day I ran away. I couldn’t cope anymore. Years had passed since my uncle’s promise, and I fretted every night in my bed, in that horrid keep that overlooked the bleak grey sea, that this prince was coming and I wasn’t there. I had to be there. I had to.
“So I ran away. It took me almost a week to get here, and when I arrived, my old uncle Godrin put his hands on my shoulders and said, ‘Not yet, sweet Cristin. One day you’ll live here, in this room in the palace, but not yet. Be patient. This prince will come. He will fly to the city to meet you, and when he does, you must give him this. Can you do this for me, sweet girl? Will you be patient, and wait for him? And keep our little secret?’”
Elyon looked at the poor woman, frowning sympathetically. It was not a sweet tale, the way she told it. “That was cruel of him,” he said. “To give you that false hope.”
