The Last Ring-bearer - Kirill Yeskov [178]
Chapter 65
Lórien, Caras Galadhon
August 1, 3019
They have gathered in the Blue Hall of the Galadhon Palace at the crack of dawn at the insistence of the clofoel of Stars. The morning felt like fall: crisp and cold like water in a forest spring, so the chills that bothered Eornis (invisibly to anyone else) may have been due to that; at least that was what she wanted to believe. What is the Master of the Stars up to? Great Eru, what if her dancers found the palantír? No, that's impossible, but what if they've figured out where it is? In the meantime, the main problem – how to get to the Mirror, closely guarded by clofoel of Might's men, today at noon – remains unsolved, and she is still bereft of ideas.
It has been clear to everyone for the past week that they had to look for a physical object (the possibility of swamp fire or another magical emanation, suggested by the clofoel of the World, has been duly checked and found untrue), and a methodical search began. When it is said that the dancers of the clofoel of Stars 'sniff out magic,' it is a fairly accurate metaphor: they do work like sniffing dogs. Throughout the last few days the girls have been walking around Caras Galadhon in a trance, feeling the air with outstretched palms, as if hunting a bird hiding in the fallen leaves or playing a game of 'hot-cold.' So far it was 'cold' – the magical object was somewhere very close but beyond their reach. That was as Eornis expected: she had been much more concerned with the Guards of the clofoel of Tranquility and their banal police methods than with the dancers' magic.
Danger sneaked up on the clofoel of the World from an unexpected quarter. The clofoel of Might, left in charge during the Lady's expedition to Mirkwood (the old battleaxe, who never played his own games, was the only member of the Council she could trust), took to his duties with excessive zeal. Among other things, his subordinates have replaced the Galadhon palace guard, so that one fine morning the bewildered clofoels discovered that they could not come into the Blue Hall for a Council session. All their attempts to reason with the new guards failed against their implacable "no such orders!" Of course, the misunderstanding was rectified right away, but now everyone was aware that the rules were now being set by the clofoel of Might at his discretion until the Lady's return. Since the Lady had directly forbidden the clofoel of Stars to access the Mirror while she was away (a very sensible precaution), he simply barred all clofoels from the Moon Tower where the magical crystal was kept – "can't overdo a good thing." Should she fail to overcome this hurdle in the few remaining hours, her well-crafted plan will be for naught and nothing will save Eloar then…
"How is your search going, esteemed clofoel of Stars?" Eornis inquired with courteous indifference while they were taking their places around the Council table.
"Not good. I have asked you all to gather here for a much more grave reason…"
Eornis looked at the master of the magical forces of Lórien in amazement – the woman looked ill and her voice was strangely lifeless. It does look serious, doesn't it?
"I will not bother you with a detailed description of our magical rituals, esteemed clofoels of the Council and you, o radiant Lord – we have too little time… maybe no time at all. For about a week now the dancers and I have been feeling strange pulsations in the Mirror's magic field. First it was a light vibration, then it turned into real convulsions, and yesterday those convulsions assumed a definite and highly unpleasant rhythm… Do none of you feel anything?"
The clofoel of Memory broke the ensuing silence suddenly: "I feel it!" It was hard to tell what shocked the Council more – the report of the clofoel of Stars or this unheard-of violation of protocol. Formally all clofoels were equals, but never before did any of the minor ones – all those palace librarians, nurses, and masters of ceremonies – dare interrupt