A Gathering of Gargoyles (Darkangel Trilogy #2)

A Gathering of Gargoyles (Darkangel Trilogy #2) Page 15

Aeriel whirled, but no one stood before the temple. She saw now that the entryway was a natural opening in the rocks, devoid of doors. A weird wordless crooning began within, very soft.

"Sibyl?" she said. No answer came. The contents of the offering bowl shifted, smoking.

The stone lyonesse lay motionless, facing the sun. Handling the ambergris had left Aeriel's hand waxy. She rubbed the sweet-smelling stuff off on one arm. The singing continued. Aeriel went inside.

The interior of the cave was no bigger than a chamber. Light of Solstar streamed in from the door. On the far side of the room lay a slab of stone, dark like obsidian, and smooth.

A faint hum seemed to come from it, and a slight, bitter scent.

Before it lay a small firepit, beside which a woman in sackcloth sat, spinning. Her great spindle was dark iron. Her drab wool came from beaten nettles. The woman's face was turned from the sunlight, and it was she who murmured the wordless tune.

"Are you the sibyl?" said Aeriel.

The woman lifted her head. Her face was lined. She wore no veil, only a bandage across her eyes. "What, is someone there?"

Her voice was soft, like paper on sand. The glow of the coals played across her features strangely. Aeriel knelt.

"Sibyl," she said, "I need your help. I have come from Isternes to lay a riddle before you.

My name is Aeriel."

"Aeriel?" the old woman whispered. Her hair was unkempt, her fingers stained with nettle juice. "Aeriel that was my fellow in the syndic's house?"

Her thin, calloused hands groped through the air. Aeriel started violently, recognizing the other now. She remembered her years in the syndic's house, in the company of a madwoman of Avaric who told horrific tales of once pushing her sovereign's son into a desert lake as tribute for a lorelei.

"Dirna," Aeriel breathed.

Leathery hands darted over her face. "It is you," the blind woman cried. "My little Aeriel.

But what are you doing here, my love? We all heard you had run away - oh, a long time ago."

Aeriel nodded. "Yes. I went back to the steeps where Eoduin was taken. The darkangel returned and carried me away. But what are you doing here? I must speak to the sibyl."

"Oh, I never treated you kindly," Dirna moaned, "but I meant no harm. I was spiteful once, but I serve the temple now. I had to run away, like you." Her spidery fingers left Aeriel's face. "The syndic was in a rage when he discovered you gone, said someone must have helped you."

"No one helped me," answered Aeriel. "Was it you who spoke to me outside?"

Dirna's ringers fluttered. "Did I?" She shook her head, frowning. "I can't recall." Her bandaged eyes seemed to seek Aeriel's. "You know how I forget sometimes___"

"Is the sibyl here?" Aeriel asked.

Again the other shook her head. "Not here -  but wait," clutching Aeriel's wrist as the girl made to rise. "She will return. Stay with me a little while."

Aeriel leaned her staff in one corner by the dark stone slab. It was nearly black, but had the look somehow of being clear, as though if only she looked long enough, she might be able to see deep down, as into a well. Still it hummed, almost below her hearing, and the odor that came from it was faintly like tar, or lightning flash. Aeriel sat down again.

Dirna sat winding her wool about her spool.

"What is that bandage?" Aeriel asked.

Dirna touched the gauze. "The light of Solstar hurts my eyes," she muttered, "for all that I am blind."

Aeriel gazed about the room. There was nothing to see, not even a bed. The cave was bare. Dirna's hand brushed a stray nettle. She began twisting it.

"But list, I remember now. There was a thing I wanted to tell you. Poor Bomba!"

"What of Bomba?" said Aeriel, looking up.

The other laid her spindle aside. "Are you not hungry, my dear?" she asked dreamily. "It is a long climb up that slope."

Her fingers darting above the firepit, she found a dipper and a cup. A low pan of something lay simmering there. She ladled some and pressed it to Aeriel. The stuff tasted of vinegar, berries, and barley meal. Aeriel set it aside barely touched.

"I am not hungry," she said. "Tell me of Bomba. Is she ill?"

"Not hungry?" Dirna crooned. "After such a climb? Come, drink. You will swoon if you do not eat something. But what was I speaking of?"

Aeriel sighed, sipped from the cup. She toyed with a pebble upon the floor. The hands of the woman across from her darted blindly, searching for something. Dirna was mad, had been mad as long as Aeriel had known her. She sighed again. Pressing her would do no good.

"Oh, yes," the other cried, clutching a handful of dust. She laughed brittlely. "I have remembered now. Of Bomba. I was speaking of Bomba. Your old nurse - Eoduin's nurse.

Yes. She's dead."

"What?" cried Aeriel. She had drunk most of the cup by then. Setting it down, she spilled the rest.

"The syndic killed her," the blind woman said, "after you ran away. He said if anyone knew where you had gone, it would be she."

"I told no one that I was going," cried Aeriel. "No one knew."

Quickly, deftly, Dirna unwound the coarse wool from her spindle onto a shuttle. A handloom rested on the floor beside her. She turned to it and began to weave.

"He shut her up in an empty storeroom."

Dirna's fingers darted, passing the shuttle through the warp by touch. The great, coarse square of cloth was nearly done. "Said he'd not let her out till she told where you were."

Aeriel felt a weakness welling up in her. Her head swam. "I don't understand," she murmured. "If he fed her, how...?"

Dirna made a little sound that might have been whimpering. Aeriel could not see her clearly anymore.

"Well, he forgot to give her any water, didn't he?" Dirna hissed. She clicked her tongue.

"Bomba was an ample old thing - could have lived a daymonth without a crumb. But not without water. Solstar was barely halfway to zenith when she died. Oh, such a pity, that.

He hadn't meant to kill her. She'd been his own nurse before she was Eoduin's."

Aeriel felt dizzy suddenly, and very cold. She shivered hard. Her teeth rattled. Dirna lifted her head.

"Are you cold?" she asked. "There, poor thing, put this on. It's finished now. I've been weaving it for daymonths, since I came here."

Aeriel looked up. Her head felt heavy. Her vision blurred. She saw Dirna lifting the cloth from the loom. She wrapped it tightly about Aeriel's shoulders. The cloth had a rough and tacky feel, seemed almost to adhere to her. Aeriel made weakly to brush it away.

"What?" the other murmured. "Would you refuse old Dirna's shawl? I made it for you."

Aeriel struggled to rise, but her legs would not hold her. She fell heavily against Dirna.

The blind woman was wrapping the shawl once more closely about her.

"Are you weary?" she said. "Come, I have a place for you to lie."

Aeriel felt herself half lifted, half dragged, and then a strange, cold touch along her back.

The surface beneath her shifted in tremors. A dull humming rose in her ears. Dirna had laid her upon the slab, she realized dimly, trying to struggle, to move. Dirna was bending over her.

"What have you done to me?" Aeriel whispered. She could hardly stir. The shawl gripped her tightly as if it had been sewn to her

"The drink?" the other said. "They call it stone's blood, to quiet you. You will not sleep.

The sibyls drink it to bring them dreams."

"I must see the sibyl," Aeriel gasped.

"Little fool, there is no sibyl here. I killed her and gave her to the stone. Few ever come here, and the sibyl always went veiled. Who would know me from her? Lie still."

Aeriel struggled. The stone on which she lay felt hard and at the same time slippery. Its hum, the tremor in it seemed to be growing stronger. Her hair clung to its surface, as did her desert shift and the fabric of Hadin's robe.

"Bomba, too," Dirna was muttering. "Doddering old ewe. How I hated her. I was the one who was to bring her water."

"Fiend," panted Aeriel. "Harridan - why?" The shawl about her shoulders clutched her till she choked.

Dirna turned away. "Kept you all away from me, didn't she? Called me mad. And you were always her pet. Fussed over you like a hen, from the time you were such a little chit the only word you could cry was 'erryl, erryl!' Some foreign word.

"Would not let Eoduin call you Sissa, said you must have a better name. Then nothing would do but that she call you Aeriel. 'Aeriel!' What manner of name is that? Oh, stop struggling. It won't do you any good. That's the Feasting Stone you lie upon."

Aeriel stopped, staring after the woman with the bandaged eyes.

"Yes," said Dima. Her lean weathered face cracked into a smile. "The Feasting Stone.

The Ancients made it. Who knows what they used it for?" She came back, leaning over Aeriel. "The sibyl is dead, but the Stone still feasts. Offerings laid upon it fall into dust, which after a little time runs through the pores of the rock and disappears. As you will crumble and disappear, my love -  soon, soon. And I will watch."

Then the sightless woman reached one leathery hand and pulled the bandage from her eyes.

Her eyes were red, the color of car-buncles. They were smooth as glass, without iris or pupil or white. Dirna stood blinking in the light of Solstar. Aeriel stared. In the desert of Pendar, the White Witch's jackals had had such eyes.

"You are one of the lorelei's creatures," she whispered.

Dirna nodded. "Yes, love. My pretty eyes. The white lady's servant came to me, a year after you ran away, and brought me eyes. He said she had never forgotten me, how I had given her the princeling in the desert, years ago."

Her red eyes glinted, glimmered in the light. They looked as though they were lit within.

Dima clasped her hands, worried them, giggled with delight.

"Her pride, she called me. Her joy. I must serve her again, she said - all I need do, for these pretty eyes, was go to Orm and wait for you. You would be coming, she said. And you would have gargoyles."

She leaned nearer.

"Gargoyles," she said. "Where have you hidden them? You must have five of them by now. But as you see, the sixth is already in my keep-ing."

She turned, and Aeriel saw a crevice in the wall. The light of Solstar threw it in shadow.

She had not noticed it before. Aeriel could scarcely turn her head; her hair was fastened to the rock. The Stone's humming murmured in her ears. Dirna drew a chain from beneath her kirtle, and on it hung a silver pipe.

She put the whistle to her lips and blew a blast so wild and shrill Aeriel could scarcely hear it, though it made her head throb. From beyond the crack, she heard a wail.

"Come out," the red-eyed woman cried. "Come, you horror, or I'll blow a blast to split your ears "

She raised the pipe again, and Aeriel flinched, hearing another shriek from beyond the crack. Then through it crawled a creature grey as stone, so crippled and bony Aeriel could hardly tell it was shaped like a gyrfalcon before, some form of beast behind.

"Raptor," Aeriel whispered. "Gargoyle. Raptor."

The creature hooted at the sight of her, started toward her, then cowered, gibbering, as Dirna blocked its path.

"The sibyl had it," the red-eyed woman said. "She had been feeding it. But the whistle makes it wild. It must obey. The white lady sent it to me, to help me with its fellows, as well as the spindle to make your shawl." She eyed the gargoyle, clicked her tongue. "Poor beast. It's gotten very thin. The last it had to eat was the sibyl's heart."

Aeriel tried to move, to scream, but she had no strength to move, no breath to scream.

Something thin and thready was running out of her into the stone.

"Where are its fellows?" Dirna demanded. "The lady wants them."

The gargoyle in the corner yammered and screeched. Hissing, the red-eyed woman turned and seized it by the collar. The silver pin that fastened the brass band gleamed there.

Dirna shook it. The raptor writhed, snarling, flexing its talons - but did not strike.

"No, you don't dare," Dirna laughed. "I have the pipe."

Aeriel struggled, fought to rise. Her garments held her to the Stone, but the shawl about her had slipped a trace, and she found she could breathe. The arm on which she had rubbed the ambergris was sliding free, for the fabric did not adhere to it. Her skin on that arm did not bind to the Stone.

Aeriel reached for her staff. It stood against the wall beside the Stone, out of her range.

The gargoyle hissed, slinking before Dirna. Aeriel reached with one leg, brushing her walking stick with the ball of her foot.

"Now where are the other gargoyles?" Dirna snapped.

Still she held the raptor's collar, her whistle raised. She did not even glance at Aeriel.

Aeriel toed her staff. It toppled toward her, falling across her. She grabbed at it, but missed.

"Heron," she cried. "Heron, fly - find Talb! Tell him to keep the gargoyles away."

As the staff fell past her, the heron shimmered. Her form unstiffened suddenly, and flew.

Dirna wheeled about. With a snarl of rage, she lunged after the winged thing, but the white bird was already through the temple door. Eyes on Dirna, the gargoyle sank into a crouch.

"Little fool," Dirna spat, turning on Aeriel. "So you have given them to someone to keep for you? It does not matter. If they are near enough to hear my pipe, then they will come to me. They must."

She raised the whistle to her lips and blew again. The raptor inching forward behind her flattened itself to the ground with a cry. Aeriel felt her hair tearing as she wrenched her head away, for the note was piercing, deafening - rang until it seemed the mountain must fall.

Then it ceased, and in the silence Aeriel heard the yelp of the gargoyles, very faint and far-seeming. The harridan smiled.

"So, they are coming. Good." She wrapped her arms about herself, laughing. "Ah, the lady will be so pleased. What will she give me in reward? Something rare, surely.

Something powerful and fine..."

Aeriel heard the scuffle of footsteps. The red-eyed woman turned.

"Eh?" she called out. "What's that - who's there?" Aeriel saw nothing. The hag cast about her. "Are you a servant of my lady? Where are you?"

She gave a cry suddenly, caught her wrist. Clutching the whistle tighter, she flailed empty air. Then seeming to break free all at once, from nothing, she staggered back. The gargoyle in the corner yipped. Dirna groped, struck out at random.

A puff of dust appeared from nowhere, scattered in midair. The harridan shrieked, rubbing her eyes. A pebble skittered across the room. She whirled - then stopped herself, turned back around. She laughed, and closed her eyes.

"Would you blind me?" she said. "Confound me with charms? I was blind once. Did you think I could not find you by the sound of your own breathing - a duarough in a daycloak?"

Abruptly, she sprang, caught hold of nothing, and yanked. A grey cloak came into being in her hand. The duarough, too: he stood before her, in her shadow, his arms half raised, a look of astonishment upon his face. Aeriel tried to cry a warning.

While he was yet in shadow, the duarough's hand darted into his robe, but Dirna was already leaping back. The light of Solstar fell on him, and for an instant the little man remained flesh - then he froze, the color of stone washing over him like a wave, his one hand still hidden in his robe.

Aeriel heard the yelp of gargoyles again, very small and faint. Dirna stood peering at the statue before her. "Master treasurekeeper," she exclaimed. "After so long, you were not one I ever expected to see again. I thought surely you went with that Estern woman of the king's when she left Avaric."

She tossed the daycloak away from her then, pawing at her eyes.

"I cannot see properly. That dust - if you've ruined my lovely eyes, little fiend, I'll pash you to rubble before Solstar sets."

The sun hung very, very low.

"No," Aeriel whispered. Her strength was vanishing. The tremor of the Stone had grown terribly strong. She felt her garments moldering to dust. "He has not harmed you...."

The hag ignored her. Sitting down, she fished the carbuncles from beneath her lids.

Brushing at them, Dirna smoothed them against her palms. Then she began to polish in earnest, using the hem of her sackcloth kirtle.

"Are they scratched? Are they scratched? Soon we will see. I'll make the lady give me a new pair in exchange for the gargoyles. I have earned a new pair."

A shadow fell across her hunched figure. Eyeless now, she did not notice it. Then the two jewels were taken roughly from her. The crouching woman cried out, whirled, groping.

The heron skimmed through the temple door, landing near Aeriel.

"I could not find your invisible duarough in that daycloak of his," she said, "so I brought another person who said he was looking for you."

Aeriel felt a rush of unbelief, followed by a wild gladness. A cry escaped her lips. The figure beside Dirna glanced at her, but his face was hard, very pale and drawn, and she could not read it.

His dress was the white garb of Avaric, much mended along the shoulder and dusty with travel. His skin was gold, his black hair fastened behind him in a long horsetail. Five scars threaded across one cheek. His eyes were cold, corundum blue.

"Well, nurse," said Irrylath, holding the withered woman's eyes. "After so long, you were not one I expected to see again. Have you been well? You do not look it. Nor have I been well, these past double-dozen years, ten of them spent in the witch's house, and fourteen more a darkangel -  because of you."

"Irrylath?" the eyeless woman whispered. "Ir-rylath!"

"You know me, then."

Dirna clutched her kirtle's hem. "My little darling. My lovely prince - where are you? I cannot see you." Her hands fluttered desperately, but Irrylath slipped away from her.

Dirna whispered, "But you are alive, my sweet. Alive! I thought you drowned in a desert lake."

"You shoved me in."

The eyeless woman cried out, biting one knuckle. "No - no, I never..."

She caught herself suddenly, bit off her words. Then she drew deep breath. Her voice grew quieter, more sweet.

"You fell. Don't you remember? I took you to the lake to show you the mudlick." Her hands crept across the floor now, searching for him. "You slipped. I tried to catch you. I held out my hand - don't you recall?"

Irrylath turned the carbuncles over in his palm. His face had lost its stoniness. His voice was not quite steady when he spoke. "That is not what you once told this girl, who later told me."

Dirna hissed, turning toward Aeriel. "How do you know her?"

Aeriel watched, unable to move. Irrylath's face was all in shadow now, turned from the sun. Only the dim glow from the firepit lit him eerily from below. Aeriel felt almost afraid of him then.

"I am wed to her," he whispered. "She is my wife."

"No!" Dirna shrieked, gargled, muttered in her throat. "No, she is a wicked, clever girl, my love. It's lies she has been telling you."

Irrylath did not reply. His gaze was fixed on Aeriel, his lips slightly parted, as though he might be about to tell her something, but he did not speak. Beside him, Dirna moaned, clawed at her cheeks.

"Give me my eyes."

The young man turned away then, holding the carbuncles clenched in his hands. "You traded my life to the White Witch," he breathed, "for a sip of foul water."

"For our lives!" Dirna cried. "We would have perished in the desert if I had not given you to her. How cruel you have become." The eyeless woman groaned, wringing her hands.

"You never used to be so cruel to your old nurse, your Dirna...."

The prince shuddered, staring at her. "You took me from those who might have taught me kindness," he spat, "and gave me to one who taught me other things."

Dirna's hands found him at last. This time he did not pull away.

"Would you have an eye? Here, take it."

He held out his arm. Dirna's fingers groped along it. Just before they found his hand, Irrylath opened it, letting one carbuncle drop. It fell among the coals of the firepit. Dirna cried out.

"Not the fire," she screamed. "The heat will shatter it."

"Fetch it out, then," whispered Irrylath.

Dirna's hand clutched, finding a poker at the firepit's edge. She began stirring it feverishly imong the coals - just as Aeriel heard a cracking sound, saw a puff of yellow smoke rise from the pit, smelled sulfur.

"Ruined!" shrieked Dirna. "You have ruined it - my eye."

"There is still one left," the prince reminded her, holding it up. Dirna clawed his hand, but his fingers only tightened. "And one's enough to see by, isn't it?"

He pulled away from her, strode to the temple door, and threw the stone. It glinted red in Sol-star's white glare. The sun lay half sunk into the hills. Sailing over the cliff's edge, the carbuncle vanished. Dirna stumbled to the cave's threshold.

"The rocks," she wailed. "I'll never find it among the rocks."

"You might," the prince replied savagely. "Go look for it," and strode past her toward Aeriel.

"A plague on you," the harridan screamed. "A plague on you, to have destroyed my eyes!"

She scrambled after him, one hand searching the floor. Her fingers closed on the iron spindle. She swung it, caught the young man on the back of the head. He cried out, taken by surprise, and turned, falling to one knee. Dirna darted past him.

"I will get new eyes," she said. "Did you think to drag her from the Stone? Too late, my prince. She's lost - but I will have her eyes before she crumbles."

Dirna had dropped the spindle now, stumbling toward the back of the cave. Aeriel cried out, fighting the pull of the Stone. Its hum was louder, the tremor harder. Her skin felt like powder. Her garments were dust. The clinging shawl was falling away in shreds.

Dirna's shadow passed over the duarough. In that instant, his arm completed its motion: drawing the black velvet bag from his robe. Aeriel saw it twitch, heard the yelp of gargoyles, very faint and far-seeming still. The raptor cowering in the corner snarled, seemed to be gaining courage.

The duarough's fingers, momentarily flesh, moved upon the bag's drawstring - but then the hag's shadow had passed, and the little mage froze, the color of stone washing over him again in the light of Solstar.

Aeriel reached desperately for her staff. It lay upon the floor, beyond the reach of her captured arm. Irrylath had staggered to his feet. The heron took wing, flew at the harridan, but the eyeless woman ducked, batting her away.

Dirna stumbled against the Stone. Her hands groped, searching for Aeriel. Aeriel cried out, shrinking away from her, struggling. She felt her skin crumbling, tearing. A warm dampness oozed beneath her shoulder on the Stone. Her arm, part of her back came free.

She could sit. She could turn.

Aeriel snatched her staff from the floor. Dirna's fingernails snagged her cheek. Aeriel struck out at her, turned her face away. The hag seized the walking stick, reaching with her other hand. Aeriel kicked, caught at her wrist.

Beyond her, she saw the raptor spring - but not at Dirna, at the mage. It seized the velvet bag in its teeth, straining against the stone hand's grip.

Then all at once there came a fury of gargoyles: screaming and hooting, snarling and lunging. The little bag shredded to tatters as the grey beasts struggled free.

Dirna cried out. She whirled. Irrylath caught at her arm, but she twisted away. Ducking behind him, she fled the cave. The gargoyles plunged after her, a storm of shrieking and screams.

The harridan sprang from the temple porch. At cliff's edge she halted, whirling. Irrylath's shadow lay on the duarough now, and the little man was once more flesh. Dirna faced them, brandishing something small and silver. The gargoyles checked their headlong rush.

"Stay, monsters," she shouted. "I hold the witch's whistle still. Kill the Avaric prince and his duarough and his bride; then find my eye among the rocks. I serve the white lady, and you must serve me."

She was raising her lean and leathery arm, she was putting the whistle to her lips - when something white and winged skimmed through the temple door. The heron sailed, stroking. Solstar's light shone through her wings. She flew in the face of the harridan, and plucked the pipe from Dirna's hand.

The hag cried out, spun, snatching after it.

Cliff's edge beneath her one heel crumbled, fell into dust. She seemed to hang in space a moment, then the earth beneath her other heel gave way. With a cry, she toppled, vanishing beyond the rim of the altar cliffs. And with a yell like hounds after their prey, the gargoyles plunged after her over the edge.