Ibryen

Chapter 8-2

The windows having been curtained and the mirrorways sealed, such light as there was came from a host of small lanterns. These hung at many levels from the ceiling, rested in niches and alcoves, swung from brackets which jutted, spiky and gibbet-like, from the walls, and stood also on slender, twisted columns which grew at random from the floor like so many storm-blasted trees. The lanterns burned with a cold, unwelcoming light, which heightened shadows rather than brought illumination, and they flickered from time to time, though no draught of air could find its way into the place. They also tainted the air with a fine, throat-catching smoke.

Multiplying the images of these lanterns were mirrors. Like the lanterns they reflected, many were hung from the ceiling and the walls while others leaned crookedly against one another in balanced arrays around the floor, some reaching up into the hazy ceiling. There were mirrors of all sizes, set at many angles, but they brought only further confusion to the scene.

Helsarn did as he always did when he entered the Watching Chamber; he tried to focus on the Gevethen — to concentrate on the heart of all that flickered about the hall. For even when the Gevethen themselves were motionless — which was rarely — the mirror-bearers continued their elaborate ballet about them so that the images of Nesdiryn’s new Lords moved constantly. And all movement in this unsettling gloaming flew from mirror to mirror, deep into their flat and glistening depths before returning, unchanged, save that left had become right and right, left.

Helsarn’s eyes thus moved automatically upwards to the top of the high throne platform. It stood dark and empty however, and for an instant the confusion of the hall threatened to disorientate him. Then he saw that the Gevethen were at the foot of the platform, as were his men, though they were no longer carrying Hagen’s body. Keeping a discreet distance behind, Helsarn followed Harik, his eyes fixed on the group ahead, trying to make out what was happening. As ever, there were other figures standing about the hall. These were yet more mirror-bearers, and some of the strange servants who tended the Gevethen. What function they fulfilled no one knew, and, like the mirror-bearers, their seemingly soulless manner disturbed all who had contact with them. Helsarn found their current inaction particularly unsettling. How could they not be drawn to what was happening?

When he reached the foot of the throne platform, he saw that four of the mirror-bearers were crouching on the floor. They were carrying their mirrors on their backs, to form an uneasy table on which was laid Hagen’s body. The Gevethen, hands clenched in front of them, were swaying back and forth slightly. Helsarn kept some way away from the scene, suddenly superstitiously fearful of what he might see reflected in that smooth and shining bier.

‘He is gone, Physician, is he not?’

‘Our right arm has been hacked from us?’

‘The Lord Counsellor is dead,’ Harik said flatly.

Hands floated towards him, beckoning.

‘You cannot draw him back?’

‘Quicken those dead eyes?’

‘Make supple these stiffening limbs?’

‘He is dead,’ Harik repeated. ‘He would have died from those injuries had I been at his side when they were struck.’

‘By his side. Ah!’

‘Ah!’

Briefly all the images turned to Helsarn. He stiffened.

Then they were gone and a score of images of the Gevethen were peering up out of the mirrors on which Hagen rested, as though they were waiting to receive him. There was a long silence. Helsarn became aware that the dark figures about the hall were slowly gravitating towards the scene.

Innumerable pale faces turned to one another and spoke in hoarse whispers.

‘Shall we go after him, brother? Into the darkness. Beyond.’

‘Those Ways are tangled and broken, brother. We would be lost.’

‘He tests us yet.’

‘He tests us yet.’

‘We must have faith...’

‘...faith.’

‘Nothing can be done, but to lay the Lord Counsellor to rest.’ Harik cut across the hissing dialogue. The images were gone and a myriad grey eyes were focused on the Physician.

‘How can he rest? His work here scarce started. So many promises unfulfilled.’

Fingertips touched the harsh face. They lingered.

‘Will you not bring him back?’

‘I cannot,’ Harik said. ‘Nor could any that I have known, wiser than I by far.’

Though Harik’s manner was unchanged, and his voice still flat and without any semblance of emotion, Helsarn sensed a battle of wills being fought. Not for the first time he felt almost as frightened of Harik as he did of the Gevethen. What was there in this man that he could stand against these two when even the strongest and most ruthless quailed?

He glanced around the hall discreetly. As ever, lights and shadows were moving and changing at the will, or the whim, of the mirror-bearers. All that appeared to be motionless were the dark and silent shapes of the servants. Yet, though he saw no movement amongst them, Helsarn knew they were drawing closer.

The Gevethen were muttering softly to each other — or were they singing?

Then, whatever tension there was between Harik and the Gevethen was gone and the two figures were bending over Hagen’s body again.

‘He is truly going.’

‘Leaving us.’

‘We must delay no further.’

And the mirrors were alive with beckoning hands urgently drawing the spectators forward.

‘Come!’

‘Come!’

‘All of you...

‘...of you.’

‘Pay your respects...’

‘...respects.’

‘The Lord Counsellor must enter the Ways before his spirit is lost.’

‘Grieve not.’

‘His wisdom will guide us still.’

Then, scarcely knowing how he came there, Helsarn found himself in a line moving slowly past the body: mirror-bearers, unfolding from around the Gevethen then returning to them, the Guards who had carried Hagen from the carriage, and all the others in the Hall who had at last silently come together. Only the Gevethen and Harik did not move, standing respectively at the head and the foot of the dead Counsellor. As each person passed, Helsarn noticed that they laid a hand on Hagen’s forehead and the Gevethen mirrored the gesture. It was no Nesdiryn ritual and Helsarn had not noticed who began it, but he felt constrained to do the same. It took him a considerable effort of will. Not because Hagen was dead — he had handled plenty of corpses in his time — but because, even in death, he was frightening. Yet even as he looked, he saw raindrops, caught in the cold lantern-light and resting whole and undisturbed on the dead face. They looked like tears and they added, for Helsarn, an unexpected and almost incongruous poignancy to the scene.

Throughout this eerie wake, the mirror-bearers moved constantly, transforming the motley handful of mourners now into a throng, now into a line that spiralled off into a lantern-lit infinity. Then, abruptly, they were still and their mirrors turned about. For a moment the Hall was suffused only with the light of the lanterns that were truly there. Individuals were individuals again, with no gliding reflection moving independently. Only the Gevethen, side by side, white-faced and watery eyes glistening, seemed like reflections. The sudden cessation of all movement, and the disappearance of the milling images twisted a spasm of panic inside Helsarn.

‘Know then our trial’

‘...our trial.’

And the movement began again. The group of eerie servants and mirror-bearers about the body began to disperse as silently as it had gathered. Helsarn could feel the eyes of the stretcher party looking at him, waiting desperately for him to make some move that would enable them to leave this place. The Gevethen were talking softly to one another again.

When they fell silent, he ventured cautiously, ‘What do you wish to be done with the Lord Counsellor’s body, Excellencies?’

‘Leave us, Captain,’ came the simultaneous reply from both of them. ‘All that can be done here has been done. Now the Lord Counsellor must enter the Ways.’

Questions formed in Helsarn’s mind, but he did not voice them. ‘As you command, Excellencies,’ he replied.

The eyes turned towards him, as did rank upon rank of others, motionless and staring. ‘It was pertinent that you who bore the awful burden of finding the Lord should attend these obsequies. That your tongue did not swell and choke you rather than bring such news to us speaks well of your courage and loyalty. We will question you later, Captain. And your men. And too, those others of our children who were present. Culprits must be found. Retribution administered as he would have wished. The disease that was the way of the Count Ibryen survives still, despite our blessed rule, and we must be ever vigilant in seeking it out. The perfection and order of true justice that Nesdiryn, and beyond, require, will elude us for ever while this corruption remains amongst us.’

Then the eyes were gone, and a limp hand was waving him away. The stretcher party needed no urging and, at his soft-spoken order, they formed up and marched from the Hall. Harik looked at the Gevethen then at Hagen’s body, then turned and left without waiting for a more formal dismissal.

The light in the corridor beyond the Hall, though dull, was almost dazzling after the oppressive gloom of the Watching Chamber, and it took Helsarn a few moments to adjust to his vision being free of the endless, shifting images.

Uncharacteristically, he dismissed the stretcher party with congratulations for their conduct in the Hall, albeit he ordered them to return to their quarters immediately, pending further orders.

Gidlon, pacing anxiously in the background, strode up to him as they left, but Helsarn turned first to Harik, just emerging from the Hall. Behind the Physician he could see the Gevethen and the mirror-bearers forming a tight circle about the corpse.

‘What about the body?’ he asked. ‘It can’t just be left there.’

Harik looked past him. ‘I know no more than you,’ he said coldly. ‘Doubtless if we’re required for anything we’ll be called.’

‘But... ’

Harik shrugged and strode off without comment. It seemed to Helsarn, staring after him, that the Physician’s stride was more urgent than usual. Whatever relationship he had with the Gevethen, he wanted to be away from this place as quickly as possible.

‘Captain!’ Gidlon’s hissed command ended Helsarn’s reverie. ‘What happened in there?’

Helsarn cast a quick glance at the door Guards and, motioning Gidlon to follow him, began walking back along the corridor. As they gradually moved towards the light, Helsarn told Gidlon all that had happened. When the tale was finished. Gidlon’s immediate comment was the same as Helsarn’s. ‘What about the body? It can’t be left there.’

And Helsarn’s reply was largely the same as Harik’s. He shrugged, as respectfully as he dared. ‘We’ll just have to wait Their Excellencies’ pleasure.’ He changed the subject; he had no desire to dwell further on what had happened in the Watching Chamber. ‘What orders did they give about the purging?’ he asked, seeking refuge in matters practical.

‘Full curfew with immediate effect. Although from what I’ve heard, there’s hardly anyone on the streets even now... everyone’s run for cover. And we’re to purge from that street as far as the Ennerhald.’

‘Do you want my Company out?’

Gidlon shook his head. ‘They might be needed for questioning. I don’t want them scattered all over the city when they’re asked for.’

They had reached the main door. The sky was still overcast, but Helsarn still had to screw up his eyes against the light. Although the rain had stopped, the courtyard was full of the sound of overflowing gutters and gullies. As they moved to the top of the steps, the Dohrum Bell began to peal again. As before, it tolled nine times. The sound shook the ground under the two men’s feet, and shivering concentric circles of agitation formed in the many puddles littering the courtyard.