Kitabı oku: «Rhianon-5. Along the way of deception», sayfa 5

Rhianon rested her chin in her lap and watched the darkness, waiting to see if she could detect movement.

He felt at once that she was no longer in the castle. The feeling of emptiness was unfamiliar and somehow sucking. He hadn’t felt anything like that in a long time. It was like an empty shell from which an oyster had been gone.

It had always been empty inside him. Long before the fall, that emptiness had already opened up inside him. For a while there was a gap that almost filled it all. Now it was gone.

Rhianon! Where is she? Who was she with? Where was she going? His first impulse was to get out of his seat and fly to find her. He would surely find her. The human world was small enough that he knew every nook and cranny of it, from the streets of mortal cities to the mysterious realm of dreams. He will not be refused an answer anywhere, for he has the right of the strongest on his side. He will see Rhianon himself. Even from the height of the clouds it is impossible not to see her. He knew that his rivals were not dormant either. They had always needed Rhianon, but no one guessed that one day he would need her, too.

Madael folded his wings and looked at his reflection in one of the castle’s live mirrors. The surface immediately rippled like the surface of water. The angel’s face was striking in its girlish beauty and the indomitable fire in the blue of his eyes. He seemed to have succeeded in imprisoning the whole sky in his own gaze. He swept a long lock of hair behind his ear; in the darkness it glowed like pure gold, but now for some reason it looked like blond hair.

“I’m the same as before, but different,” he whispered to his reflection. His lips were barely moving, but the mirror doppelganger suddenly grinned slyly back. Oh, that mirror, it will reflect the soul, won’t it? Then his soul was reflected in that moment, distorted beyond belief.

Madael turned away from the mirror and looked at the crimson clouds outside the window. At that moment it was as if they poured with blood. Over the eternal streak of dawn a rainbow split, the anxious voices of celestial creatures, birds, and faeries resounded. Soon the whole castle must begin to crumble. It was created only for Rhianon, and it had no reason to exist without her. And all those creatures that were already nestled in it, or in the clouds near it… Well, Madael didn’t care if they died. Though it wasn’t impossible that they would survive, since it wasn’t the first time they’d fallen from the heavens.

What was going on around them didn’t matter anymore. He tried to look for her in his mind’s eye and could not find her. What should he do now? Should he fly after her? Search for her?

He hadn’t cared about other people’s wishes before. So what’s changed since then? Hadn’t he won her there on the battlefield, captured her? Shouldn’t she now belong only to him? Rhianon is his property, as much as the gold or the very land on which he now dwells. He even chuckled at his own thought. It had never happened, and he wished it had. With her he had lost something of great value. It was a feeling that would not leave him alone, and as time passed it grew stronger and stronger. It was as if a part of himself had been taken from him.

The feeling was unfamiliar. He went wandering the halls and corridors of the castle to chase it away. All around him the walls were cracking and crumbling, and he just wandered from one gallery to another. For the first time he was walking, and the feeling of the marble solid rock beneath his feet almost mesmerized him. What was it like to be chained to the ground and not be able to get away from it? That was also the first time he thought about it. And Rhianon must have always thought about it. Of course she had, because she was so afraid of heights. It couldn’t be otherwise if they kept calling her from above from their harsh and cold heights.

Madael clenched his hand into a fist and slammed it violently into the mirror on the way. It groaned and wailed, and shards exploded in every direction, chanting in fury. His blood remained on them and now hissed fire. It, too, could speak itself, sing, ignite, and distort objects. Not blood, but a magical elixir for mortals. He remembered giving Rhianon a taste of his blood. So it had already begun to change. And no celestial would dare touch her. But here’s that blond boy. He is crazy about her, instead of worrying about the noose that awaits him, Ron, he seems to be a threat. Madael frowned. What if it’s all about him? And is he the only one? There are many more of them, human and nonhuman. They can’t live without Rhianon once they’ve seen her. Well, then they will have to die. He’ll take care of that himself.

Madael grinned as he noticed the hunched figure in the alcove. The newly cursed man was weeping bloody tears realizing his new self, and his flute was groaning. He himself had once been a similarly insignificant, seared creature with a realization of the truth. He felt the same way when he hit the ground, and he felt it for a long time before he saw Rhianon. So Arno’s condition was familiar to him. There was nothing to strive for, nothing to lose, you could die, but you were immortal. You have to go on living your miserable existence, since death will never come to you.

“You seek Rhianon?”

At the authoritative sound of his master’s voice, Arnaud’s voice roused.

“I… don’t…” He raised his head anxiously and involuntarily squinted at the radiance of Madael’s figure.

“Don’t be afraid.” Madael smiled haughtily at the corners of his lips, letting him know that they were almost on an equal footing now. “I’m not angry with you. I’m even asking you to be my companion.”

How could such a beautiful building go unnoticed? Rhianon was surprised that her house remained invisible to everyone. She stepped out onto the small wrought iron balcony of the second floor and stared out into the street. People passing by didn’t even look in the direction of her house, as if it didn’t exist at all. Maybe they were so used to the sight of it that they no longer wanted to look in its direction. The architecture was new to her, so naturally she stared, and the passersby… Rhianon suddenly began to realize that she could read their minds. For example, the strangers and peddlers from other countries were walking, and there were overseas merchants, and none of them looked at the facade of her house. They didn’t even see it.

Rhianon swallowed hard and felt a sweet copper taste on her tongue. Blood, she didn’t remember biting her lip, but there was a sharp taste of blood in her mouth. It was inhuman blood. She was suddenly reminded of the wound on Madael’s chest and how she had put her lips to it. He himself had made her so that her wounds would be healed. It was a divine elixir granting immortality and secret knowledge. She licked her lips nervously and heard a creature swoop down from the tiled roof above her head and fly to her shoulder. It was only a raven. His eyes gleamed with an evil yellowish light.

“Well, my feathered friend, do you want me to tell you what’s in the heads of these people?” She asked jokingly, and turning around, she noticed that the raven’s tiny eyes were ablaze with the suggestion.

Rhianon involuntarily became wary. Was it a bird? She looked more closely at the raven, trying to determine what kind of creature it was, and what it wanted from her. It was perched beside her, clawing at the carving on the balcony, staring her in the face. The raven interested her. Only so far her powers were not enough to get inside the bird’s head. Trying to do so, Rhianon sensed only gloom and some vague warning, as if she were trespassing on someone else’s territory.

“Your thoughts are forbidden,” she commented, still jokingly, but now with more seriousness. “You’re an odd creature, you are.”

Rhianon sent shivers down her spine. The bird, whoever it was, had managed to frighten her a little.

She felt a sudden urge to leave the balcony, and to shut the shutters so that the crow couldn’t fly behind her. It was a silly thought. What made her think that her new feathered acquaintance would want to live indoors rather than out in the open.

“You’re lucky you can fly anywhere you want, and there’s no kingdom you have to fight for,” Rhianon glanced at him angrily. She was suddenly seized by a sharp, black envy of the bird. It was a hideous feeling, more burning than fire, and she wanted to reach out and wring the raven’s neck.

It wouldn’t let go, of course. But why should she hate it? It’s just a crow. It doesn’t take anything from her, and it has no claim to anything, it just flies over the rooftops. So let it fly away. But he did not fly away.

Rhianon noticed the tiny crown on his head. She could tell he was a crowned raven. They only had that in fairy tales. She reached out to touch it, but the bird swooped down and landed on a curl of wrought ironwork placed just above it.

The girl blinked her eyes, wondering if what she was seeing was an illusion. The tiny crown was certainly little larger than a ring a bird would steal, and it had sharp, jagged teeth. It was undoubtedly a real crown, very dainty too, but it was the size of a bird’s head. Only gnome craftsmen could forge such a crown, but why would they make a crown for a bird.

This is the real mystery and how to solve it. Fate and his cellar of magical wines were worthless by comparison. They couldn’t intrigue her like that.

Rhianon realized she was mistaken only when she heard sounds coming from inside the house. It sounded like glass breaking and heavy objects falling. She was startled. It felt like the ground beneath the house was shaking. What was it, an earthquake? But then why passers-by on the narrow strip of street near the other houses did not notice it. And if it was not an earthquake, what was it? Is it only the devil that got into her house together with the gnome, swaying on the chandeliers and smashing the glasses?

Rhianon hurried downstairs. She turned only when she reached the stairs, remembering that she hadn’t closed the glass doors leading to the balcony, but it was too late to return. Downstairs, something strange was indeed happening. The noise was so loud it hurt my ears. It was as if every evil creature from all over Vinor had gathered for a rave in her cellar. Rhianon cautiously went to the door and peered inside. It was dark in the cellar, with only the glow of the already corked barrels. It was as if she had not removed the plugs from the wells, but the jewels still glittered on the floor.

Rhianon lightly touched the head of the copper sphinx lying by the cellar door. She wondered why she had not seen it there before. It seemed that before the sphinx statues had been placed at the foot of the stairs, not here. The metal heated from her quick touch. Though she didn’t feel the fire raging inside her now, the sphinx still seemed red-hot.

A moment more and the clawed paw resting on the pedestal moved gracefully. In the next instant it might have caught at Rhianon’s hem, but the girl prudently recoiled. Oh, dear! Rhianon let out a deep sigh. She’d seen statues come to life before, but this one scared her. The yellow copper played with the glare and shimmer of the lion’s body, and the beautiful long-haired head seemed surprisingly angry. It was not clear to the end whether it was female or male. Like Madael’s angels the graceful face combined both girlish charm and strength.

“Stay back!” Rhianon backed away. She stepped toward the middle of the room and noticed that the carpet pattern was also vibrating strangely, as if the carpet itself were woven of many tiny bodies that suddenly came to life and moved.

The chandelier above her head began to swing dangerously. Someone had deliberately knocked over one of the candles in its wells and it fell to the carpet.

“Get out of our house!”

Rhianon turned at the insolent shouting and noticed the leprechauns rocking the chandelier. They were perched on twisted brass ornaments and making grimaces. What brazen creatures they were, and how many of them there were. Some of them were hanging over the ornaments, some were dragging candles from their holes to throw them down, and others were dancing between the candles. But as soon as they looked at Rhianon’s face, the fun stopped. The candles that had been taken out of the chandelier did not fall. Tiny brown faces and glowing red eyes stared at the princess as if they had had a vision.

“Her Highness!” Someone shrieked, and the others scrambled to a halt. Their incredulous gestures must have been mistaken for bows. Rhianon arched an eyebrow in surprise when she heard what sounded like an apology, and the next moment the tiny folk were scrambling up the chandelier cord. Perhaps now they would lurk in the attic and not bother her anymore. Or maybe they’d get the hell out of here.

Rhianon sighed in relief when she noticed that the copper sphinx had also retreated to its place on the pedestal.

So that’s what power the face of their lord has over these creatures. Rhianon sighed as she approached the wall mirror. Seeing her face in it, she involuntarily recognized Madael’s features as well. If she had been born a boy, she might have been just like him. In the meantime, she was his female counterpart, extraordinarily graceful and incredibly beautiful. If she were a man it would be easier to win her own throne. But what kind of relationship would they have with Madael himself then? Is it a friendship? Is it a hatred? And in the end love, because fallen angels don’t care who they fall in love with, they themselves are sexless and their love is all the more abnormal. So is their lust. She remembered Eve’s corpse. He was a poor beautiful child. His fate was only to be regretted.

“And what is about your own child, my lady? You wouldn’t want something like that to happen to him, would you?”

She turned sharply on the voice. After she had managed to disperse all the evil in the house with one look, Rhianon had not expected any other visitors. But one of them was already standing in front of her. She fervently hoped that he was the last and that on seeing her face he too would hurry away and leave, apologizing to the queen of all the damned for accidentally causing trouble, but he was in no hurry. Besides, he had nothing to do with the swarm of those little pranksters who had cleared off the chandelier and out of the cellar, where now all that remained was the low table set up for the celebration and the broken glasses. Some nimble furry paws quickly cleaned it all up. The sphinxes, too, were frozen in lazy poses. The previously shaking walls, ready to bury Rhianon under their bulk, now calmed down. Only the stranger in black remained, and he was surprisingly calm. Somewhere she had seen him before, but now she looked at the unattractive features as if for the first time. They were dark bottomless eyes, a big hooked nose and colorless lips, and pitch-black hair down to his shoulders. It was glossy and shiny, and it looked like it had raindrops stuck in it, like captive sparks. Yes, the hair and the eyes were probably the only things about him that were beautiful. And then there were the clearly outlined cheekbones, the clean forehead and the strong-willed chin. The more she looked at him, the nicer he seemed. He leaned forward as if to salute her, and then a black feather caught in the lap of his cloak became visible.

“You are a raven!” Rhianon looked down at the long, knotty fingers, now lined with expensive rings and rings, but still resembling the claws of a bird. And the short black cloak, it was like the wings of a raven. But then where is the crown.

“I am Prince,” he corrected her gently, bowing his head even lower.

Are you Prince of Crows,” Rhianon grinned. “And your holdings in this city and all your subjects are on my roof and other eaves as far as Vinor.”

It would be easy for her to drive him out now. If he is but one of the wizards, he cannot disobey the devil’s mistress. Just one order from her and he will be gone.

“My principality is slightly north of Loretta,” he suddenly protested, his words sounding unexpectedly weighty. “It’s quite small, but a man’s strength lies in his ruler, not his army.”

“Especially if the ruler is a sorcerer,” Rhianon chided him. “Yes, you’re right. That’s why you should guard your own borders. Your people would be lost without you.”

“And their lives are nothing to me.” He moved suddenly toward Rhianon, moving so fluidly and so quickly, as if he were flying from one place to another. In an instant he was standing in front of her and seemed to want to touch her, but he didn’t dare, as if the mere sight of her already burned. That’s how you reach for a candle flame and want to catch it, but you know it’s too hot and will burn your palms.

Rhianon felt the same way. She is tiny and graceful, like a candle in the shadow of a raven’s wings, but when it comes into contact it is the one that will prove most powerful and all-consuming. So the victory is hers. She smiled defiantly at the intruder.

“Then you’d better have your dukedom in the heath.”

“But that is where it is,” he did not seem offended, his reply was sincere, “and all around is rock and empty land, burned by your husband’s dragons. I’ve tried to tame them, but they’re surprisingly docile.”

“They may not remember who they are, but they know their value and would serve no one but me and my husband,” she did not know why she had to defend the dragon packs, perhaps offended by his tone and the arrogance with which he spoke the word “her husband. Madael cannot become anyone’s consort. You can’t marry a fallen angel.

“But you would have a child by a fallen angel.”

Rhianon became wary. He read her mind, and did so with surprising ease, as if she hadn’t been able to put any barriers around her. She was obviously still very inexperienced, or her doubts had opened a loophole to him. You have to be perfectly calm to keep your secrets, and she was too worried.

“Is your realm really in the middle of nowhere?” Rhianon asked with a self-assurance that struck her as if she were talking to an ambassador or a servant.

“Well, there were villages and manors, of course, only now there are boulders, like your esteemed husband’s temples. You see, I, too, like to turn vexed people into stones or fertilizer for planting luxuriant thorny roses, which then thirst for the blood of passersby.”

She imagined thorns reaching for someone’s arm on their own. One might crouch by the roadside, hear the quiet rustling of the leaves, and become interested in the roses, approach, and then walk away wounded or not at all. Rhianon imagined this picture so clearly, as if the guest had conveyed it on some deep subconscious level.

“And that you don’t pity the travelers either, they’re not your subjects anymore, and I understand they pay tribute for passage through your lands.”

“Nearly everyone is a nuisance to me,” he said casually. Then he suddenly gave her a beaming smile. It is except you, of course. That’s why I’ve decided to propose to you.

He bowed before her in an unusually low bow. At this he looked ridiculous. He had a disproportionate, excessively long body. He looked as if he might strike the chandelier with his head.

“Is it a suggestion?” Rhiannon took a step back from him. “I’m not following you at all.”

He straightened his shoulders and gave her another dazzling smile. “I have principalities, you have a kingdom. You have fire within you, but you have not gone far in the study of witch folios. And I am, at the moment, the strongest sorcerer the world has ever known. With our combined efforts, we could accomplish a great deal.”

“Are not from the School of Witchcraft?” She squinted, trying to remember. Could he have seen him there? He could have been one of the shadows in the halls.

“God forbid,” he grinned grimly. “College, school, university, it’s all for suckers who need a guide and a teacher’s pokes in their knowledge. A truly gifted man learns by himself. Did anyone ever teach you how to burn cities?”

Rhianon became suspicious. Rhianon exhaled, sending him backward, a loud crackle of flame shooting from her lips. It flew across the room and still caught the lining of his cloak. The fabric began to smoke. There was a pungent smell of burning. Rhiannon waited until her guest had knocked the flame from the flames. It was surprisingly voracious and left several large burnt holes in the cloak. Though it was inappropriate, it was the guest who apologized to Rhianon. On reflection, she decided it was right, since he had provoked her. He must have known that any negative emotion would set her on fire, and yet he could not help himself.

“You’re right. Do not make me angry, or the whole house will burn down and I’ll be left without a roof over my head, and you… well, I’m not going to plant roses yet, so I don’t need fertilizer from corpses. And you’ve got a lot to live for. You’ve got far-reaching plans. You want to conquer the world?”

“And not only the human world,” the guest was not confused as usual and did not seem to catch the sarcasm in his voice. “There is a kingdom, but people do not live there… only those whom your husband exiled. He must be fed up with them. It’s a good thing he didn’t exterminate them, because they made a splendid country.”

“He’s quite the connoisseur of art,” Rianon grinned, remembering the statues that came to life and the blood and meat on the gilded tableware.

“Well, then it really is beauty, and with a capital letter,” he suddenly grabbed her hand and put it to his lips, seemingly indifferent to the fact that he still had burns on his palm. “It is a great beauty. It’s amazing how having it has left you without a kingdom.”

“And even with fire inside me, my kingdom would not be returned, and it’s a pity you didn’t have my gifts, or you would have known how to use them. With your sagacity, you could have taken any country with less.”

“Only I would have preferred to have more.”

“I’ve known such dreamers before you. By the way, how did you get into my house?”

“No, flew in through the window. Remember, you didn’t lock the doors to the balcony. That’s dangerous in a place like Vinor, there are too many birds and not all of them are as friendly as I am.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she agreed politely, but she doubted that the others could be more dangerous than him. He reeked of something evil and unpleasant, like rot from a grave, despite the pleasant scent of lavender and musk that followed him. But Rhianon could feel the soul. Even in a rosebush you can spot a worm. Their rich scent may beat the stench of rot beneath the ground, but there are those who can see through the soil, after all. Hildegard is like that, with her evil charms she can probably see through people. The only pity is that she herself is blackest inside and will only use her abilities to her detriment. Perhaps she would make a fine match for this dandy. They are both cunning, conceited, and prefer dark colors in their clothing and blackness in their souls. What a pair they’d make. They were a devil and a she-devil for sure. The world would have shuddered at them. Her guest, however, seemed most intent on the opposite. The way he looked at Rhianon’s golden curls, as if he’d seen the jewels in the treasury.

“I haven’t even had time to introduce myself,” he bowed low again, hiding his burnt palm in the folds of his robes. “I am Prince Rothbert.”

It was a strange, unpleasant name. She grimaced, the sound like a crow’s caw and he himself looked like a huge raven, even the burnt holes in his cloak were beginning to heal, no longer spoiling the overall impression of mourning.

“I am Princess Rhianon,” she said reluctantly.

“Yes, I know. I’ve known you for a long time.”

“Why, you’ve never been to court, or I would have remembered…” She was surprised at first, but suddenly she understood. There were crows on Manfred’s balconies. They’d flocked there in flocks, and one of them might well have been crowned. She’d never really paid much attention to them, so she hadn’t noticed.

He must have been curious to peep at her through the window. She wondered how much he managed to see. He must have known how often young men and even mature men die because of her. Cupid’s arrow is another best weapon. All he has to do is introduce his enemy to Rianon to drive him out of the world. There were tournaments, duels, suicides over her. He had most likely seen enough of the world crumbling around the princess. And now he needed her as a weapon superior to all.

But there was also Madael. What if he didn’t allow that to happen? Had the prince thought of such an option? Rhianon thought and something inside her fluttered. She put her hands to her waist.

“It is fire within,” her interlocutor stretched out understandingly. “It is the child of fire. It will burn you from the inside out. And if not, it will burn you after he is born. You would need a father, someone with enough magical power to look after him and teach him everything he knows. And, of course, such a creature needs to be controlled. Otherwise it will destroy everything around it.

“And you offer yourself for the role of mentor,” Rhianon was already relieved, and she raised her head proudly.

“No, my lady, I offer myself as your consort,” he wanted to get down on one knee in front of her, just a moment of inner struggle and he was at her feet. “I offer you my hand and heart and all my charms. Everything is at your disposal.”

Rhianon grimaced. It all looked ridiculous and grim at the same time. The gentleman in black at her feet looked like the devil, young, quite seductive, and impossibly cunning. Only after the angelic beauty she had seen, he was no longer attractive to her, despite all his suggestions.

“But I already have one husband… in your own words.”

“He is in heaven, my lady, or in hell, whatever. You need someone else on earth, someone flesh and blood.”

“Is he with raven’s wings?”

“I know quite a bit about your preferences. Winged creatures are your only passion, and humans are as unimportant to you as they are to me. You and I will get along just fine.”

“I don’t think so,” she pulled her train proudly away from his kneeling figure. It seemed like he was about to start praying at her. Her only wish was to get him out of here, but she didn’t know how.

“Shouldn’t you be getting home to your state?” She asked arrogantly.

“Except in your society, but if you become my princess, it will not be enough.”

“And what will happen, we will summon dragons, subdue them, and go straight from your heath to Loretta, and then the whole world ahead of us. And when you have taken over everything, all that will be left is to bore and bring up the devil’s child. You want him more than you want me. Am I right?”

His eyes flashed with understanding fire. Rhianon herself did not know how she had been able to guess his intentions. Maybe she could read someone’s thoughts, too.

“He’s important to me,” Rothbert said.

“You were so in love with his father,” Rhianon said with a sneer. “Then I understand you very well. You are not the only one. But this child may never be born. I might kill it before it’s born, long before it becomes what it could be.”

“You wouldn’t do that, would you?” He reached out his hand toward her without fear of being burned. He did so in vain. The flicker of light between them slapped his fingers.

“I’ll do as I please,” Rhianon tilted her head, watching him with interest. It seemed that at least some part of his thoughts and memories were finally becoming visible to her. She had learned many interesting things about both the castle in the rocks and the wasteland overgrown with killer roses or scorched by the flames of the dragons he had failed to hold back with magic. His black books and powers were only enough to summon them, but not to control them. He must be covered in burns himself, and that is why he is wrapped in black up to his chin. She grinned.

“I shall be your consort. I will be the Queen of the world.”

He nodded.

“And what about the girl named Diana, who sits in a tower with no entrances and exits among nothing but books, waiting. Will the crowned raven no longer appear at her window to brighten her loneliness? She will never get out of that tower. All around are vines and spells. She is so confused.”

“She is a prude,” he said contemptuously. “So she stays there.”

“So you are going to forget her?” Rhianon was slightly offended, she could not have forgotten Madael herself, but apparently not everyone has such strong feelings.

“She is already forgotten,” he said nonchalantly.

“And I’d advise you to stick with her, she won’t burn you if you touch her, and you’ll burn with me,” she wasn’t joking, he should have realized that. His eyes gleamed with reproach and anger for a moment, but the next moment he was up. He was on his feet already far away from Rhianon and close to the open window.

“Have a safe flight,” she said indifferently to his silent plea.

“So you won’t change your mind?” He didn’t sound hopeful at all in his voice, but he wanted to be sure.

“I don’t change my mind.”

All she had to do was watch the crow fly away from the window. Rothbert was right, she should lock the shutters tightly, and it was a pity she didn’t know how to put protection spells around windows and doors so no one could get in. She wished she had stayed at the School of Witchcraft or found a wandering wizard to tutor her in the simplest of witchcraft techniques. In life, you have to know how to defend and protect not only yourself, but also your home, if you do not want such unexpected guests to come.