The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [197]
On a wave of joy the golden line darted from the crystal. As it rose, it grew until it reached a spear’s length of gleaming metallic light. Trembling, it stood before her.
‘You will have my thanks through all eternity,’ the spirit thought to her. ‘You are my deliverer. What may I do to serve you?’
Dallandra nearly lost her concentration in sheer surprise. She’d been expecting a fragment of mind such as the Wildfolk have, but this spirit belonged to a much higher order of being if it could send thoughts in the form of words.
‘I ask nothing from you,’ Dallandra said, ‘but to serve the Light always.’
‘That shall I do with great joy.’
‘Tell me, who trapped you in this gem?’
‘I know not his name. If I had, I should have cursed him thrice over. His image—look!’
The golden line flickered, swelled, and transformed itself into the blurry but recognizable image of a Deverry man—a typical Cerrmor man, Dallandra realized, with pale hair and high cheekbones. The illusion melted as fast as a sliver of ice on a hearthstone, leaving the spirit standing before her.
‘I can show no more,’ it said, ‘but if you find that man, beware beware beware!’
‘I shall indeed, and my thanks for the warning.’
‘The man dripped evil. First he bought my prison from a murderer. He gave the murderer a golden coin for it. Then he built the cage and chased me until I could flee no more. When he trapped me, he mocked me, saying that the only being in any world who could release me was the murderer’s mother. And so I raged, thinking I would be bound for all eternity.’
Dallandra felt such a stab of grief that it manifested. A long howl of pain, a keening wail, cut through the billowing blue light. She could feel the spirit’s confusion as it swirled about her silver flame.
‘You are my deliverer,’ it said. ‘I meant not to pain you by repeating that evil fool’s lie.’
‘It was no lie,’ Dallandra said. ‘I am that woman. I am the murderer’s mother.’
The spirit turned into a rigid line of gold, pure force frozen briefly into form. For a moment it hovered in front of her, trying to comprehend, then like an arrow loosed from a bow it launched itself and flew, darting away into the billowing blue mists. Far more slowly Dallandra retreated down the silver cord to her body.
With a grunt of pain she woke to find herself still lying on her back with her fingers twined around the obsidian pyramid. Salamander reached over and took the crystal from her, then rose to call Calonderiel. She unfolded her hands and shook them to bring back feeling to them. She sat up just as Cal came hurrying back into the tent.
‘No flopping around this time,’ Calonderiel said. ‘I can’t tell you how glad I am, too.’
‘So am I,’ Dallandra said. ‘I don’t need bruises.’ She looked Salamander’s way. ‘The spirit is free.’
Salamander smiled, but tears were running down his face. He handed her the pyramid and tried to speak. With a shrug, he stood up, then ducked under the door flap and left the tent.
‘Sisi!’ Laz said. ‘Come look at this!’
He was sitting at the table with the white pyramid in front of him. Sidro sat down opposite and leaned onto the table to stare into the crystal. Her first glance made her gasp and lean closer. Instead of the Inner Shrine, she saw the smoky image of a woman of the Ancients sitting inside a tent. Golden light fell around her. The woman, silver-eyed and silver-haired, was talking as she pointed to the pyramid. The view changed and swooped so rapidly that Sidro felt momentarily ill. When it cleared, she saw the face of Exalted Mother Grallezar, peering into the smoky view. The Ancients woman had apparently handed the crystal to the Gel da’ Thae.
‘Rocca must have saved the holy relics somehow.’ Sidro tore herself away from the image and looked at Laz. ‘They wouldn’t have the crystal otherwise.’
‘That’s true. She did one thing right