Doom of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [119]
She looked up at him. Maidenly confusion, girlish vanities melted in the desperate longing and hunger she saw within him. Her own love flowed out to fill this blank emptiness as the magic flows from the world through a catalyst to its user.
“No! Oh, no!” she cried, and now it was she who reached out and clasped hold of him. “A week ago, I might have answered differently. Yesterday morning, even. Yesterday I was a girl playing at romance. But last night, when I knew I might lose you, I realized then it didn’t matter. Papa says I’m young and that I will forget you as I’ve forgotten others. He’s wrong. No matter what happens, Joram,” she said earnestly, moving nearer to him, “you are in my heart and you will stay there, always.”
Joram bowed his head; he could say nothing. This was precious, so precious he dreaded to lose it. If he did lose it, he would die. Yet … he had to tell her. He had promised Saryon, he had promised himself.
“I need you, Gwendolyn,” he said gruffly, gently withdrawing from her embrace but keeping hold of her hand. “Your love means everything to me! More than life …” He paused, clearing his throat. “But you don’t know anything about me, about my past,” he continued earnestly.
“That doesn’t matter!” Gwen began.
“Wait!” Joram said, gritting his teeth. “Listen to me, please. I’ve got to tell you. You must understand. You see, I’m D —”
“Gwendolyn! Come inside this moment!”
There was a rustling among the honeysuckle plants and Marie appeared. The catalysts usually cheerful, pleasant face was pale and angry as she glanced from the flushed, disheveled young woman to the pale, fervent young man. At the sight of her, Joram dropped Gwen’s hand, the words died on his lips. Catching hold of Gwendolyn, Marie led her away, scolding her angrily all the while.
“But you won’t tell Papa, will you, Marie?” Joram heard Gwen say, her voice drifting back to him with the fragrance of the lilacs. “It was you who ran off and left me, after all. I wouldn’t want Papa to be mad at you …”
Joram stood, staring after them, not knowing whether to curse the Almin or thank Him for His timely intervention.
10
The Grove of Merlyn
The Grove of Merlyn was the cultural heart of Merilon. Built to honor the wizard who had led his people from the Dark World of the Dead to this one of Life, it was now a repository for the arts. The wizard’s tomb was the heart of the Grove. A ring of oak trees surrounded the tomb, patiently standing their guardian watch over the centuries. A carpet of lush, green grass spread out from the feet of the oaks, unrolling until it reached the tomb itself. The grass was soft and pleasant to walk on, the area around the tomb peaceful and quiet — which was probably the reason few people ever visited there.
Outside the oak ring lay the main part of the Grove. Hedges of brilliant picket rose, whose blossoms were every color of the rainbow and then some, formed a gigantic maze around the tomb. Within this maze were small amphitheaters where artists painted, actors acted, clowns capered, and music played day in and day out. The maze itself was simple to navigate — visitors could, if lost, simply fly over the hedge rows. But this was considered “cheating.” Tall locust trees — standing higher than the hedges — were daily shaped by the Druids into fantastical “guides” through the maze, which itself shifted daily. Part of the fun of entering the Grove was to figure out the maze; the trees often offered “clues.” The fact that the maze always led to the tomb was considered its weakest point. Many of the nobility had been to the Emperor protesting this — stating that the tomb was outdated, ugly, and depressing. The Emperor discussed the matter with the Druids, but they were obstinate, refusing to change. Knowledgeable visitors, therefore, never penetrated the maze. It was only the uninitiated or uninformed tourist — like Mosiah — who followed it to its heart.
The Field Magus had seen the ring of oaks from a distance and felt drawn to them; they reminded him of his home on the borders of the forest.