The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [118]
‘Alshandra protect!’ Sidro whispered. ‘It’s like our altar gem, just white to its black. I told you about that, didn’t I?’
‘You certainly did,’ Laz said. ‘Which is why this caught my eye in a marketplace, when I was languishing in exile. Some dolt of a jeweller thought it was a little bauble and nothing more.’
Sidro had always been able to tell when he was lying, mostly because he did it so often.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Tell me where you really found it.’
He laughed with a toss of his head. ‘Having you with me is going to be challenging. Still, tis worth it. I’ll tell you in good time, my love, all in good time.’
‘I’m not surprised you worship Vandar. He loves lies and riddles, too.’
‘I do not worship Vandar. I wish, my dear Sisi, that you could disabuse yourself of that notion. I can’t worship Vandar because he was only a sorcerer, not a god, no more than Alshandra was a goddess.’
‘She is a goddess.’
‘No, she’s dead, just like Vandar.’ Laz grinned at her. ‘Think, Sisi! Hundreds of our people saw her torn apart over Highstone Tor down in the Slavers’ Country. The chronicles make it quite clear. They—’
‘That’s all lies. You have to see with the eyes of faith, not believe everything some crazed bard recited to some corrupt old-god priestess.’
‘The eyes of faith!’ He rolled his in mockery. ‘You can’t convert me, you know. If I could be converted, Mother would have done it years ago.’
‘Oh, probably so! But how do you know that the chronicles aren’t lying?’
‘Why would they? Besides, I remember it.’
‘You dreamt it, you mean. You’ve been having those dreams and calling them memories for as long as I’ve known you.’
‘No, I recovered this memory in trance.’
Laz spoke so quietly, and he looked at her so steadily, that she held her tongue. He sat down on the other side of the table and leaned forward. Between them the white pyramid glowed for a brief moment, as if it had caught a random wink of sunlight.
‘It’s a true memory.’ Laz said. ‘I tested it with all the sigils. I stood on a ridge near Highstone Tor and watched Alshandra die. It happened over a river ford. Her form was like seeing a picture in clouds—you know, thinking you see a tower or a palace of cloud, but then the wind springs up and tears it apart. Pieces fall away, the illusion breaks up. Her arms went first, then part of her torso. She screamed, one last horrible scream, and—’
‘Stop! I don’t want to hear it! One of your nightmares, that’s all.’ Sidro realized that her hands were shaking. She laid them into her lap to hide them.
‘No, a memory! I was a soldier in that life, an officer of some sort, so I suppose I died soon after. There was one last battle the next day, the chronicles tell us, but our men were so demoralized they could barely fight.’
‘They were fooled by some ugly trick, that’s all. There’s no use in arguing about it.’
‘Why? Because you’re losing the argument?’
For want of a decent retort, Sidro made a sour face at him. Her head seemed to have turned to stone or perhaps lead. She leaned forward, braced her elbows on the table, and rested her head in her hands.
‘What’s wrong?’ Laz’s voice snapped with urgency.
She found herself unable to answer. He got up, strode around the table, and knelt on the floor beside her. When she turned her head to look at him, she nearly fainted. His eyes narrowed.
‘My apologies.’ Laz caught her gaze with his. ‘Keep looking at me, my love.’ He raised one hand and sketched a sigil in the air. ‘There!’
Her head cleared. The memories came back, tumbling into her consciousness. In one smooth motion she slid free of the stump and stood up.
‘You reeking scum!’ Her voice shook with fury. ‘You ensorceled me!’
‘I’ll confess.’ Laz got to his feet. ‘I knew you wouldn’t come with me otherwise.’
‘You were quite right. I’m not going to stay, either.’
‘Yes, you are.’
Sidro grabbed her sack from the table. Laz stepped around the stump and caught her by the shoulders. Although she struggled, she could do nothing against the strength in his arms, so heavily