Norton, Andre - Merlin' s mirror

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1.
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The beacon still called from deep within the rough-
walled fastness of the cave. Its message was fainter now.
Each planet year had put more strain upon this mecha-
nism, though its creators had attempted to make it ever-
lasting. They believed they had foreseen every eventuality.
They had—except the weakness within their own rule and
the nature of the world from which the beacon called.
Time had been swallowed, was gone, and still the beacon
kept to its task, while outside the cave nations had risen
and decayed, men themselves had changed and changed
again. Everything the makers of the beacon had known
was erased during those years, destroyed by the very ac-
tion of nature. Seas swept in upon the land, then retired,
the force of their waves taking whole cities and countries.
Mountains reared up, so that the shattered remains of
once-proud ports were lifted into the thin air of great
heights. Deserts crept in over green fields. A moon fell
from the sky and another took its place.
Still the beacon called and called, summoning those who
had vanished and left behind only legends, strange, time-
distorted tales. And now there was another period of cha-
otic darkness in the affairs of men. An empire had crashed
under its own unwieldy weight and the strain of years.
Barbarians ravaged, picking its carcass like vultures. Fire
and sword, death and the living death of slavery marched
across the land. And yet the beacon called.
Its heart-fires were dim now. From time to time the call
faltered, as a man in mortal danger might gasp for breath
between shouts for aid.
Then that call, so faint now, was finally heard far out in
space. A strange arrow of metal caught the impulse, and
deep in this ship's heart installations which had been silent
and unresponding for centuries were activated. The arrow
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6 Andre Norton
altered course, using the beam of the call as a line to draw
itself down.
There was no living thing aboard that ship. It had been
devised with desperate hope by entities close to the extinc-
tion of all they held important, more important than their
own lives. They had sent six such arrows of life into the
void, their only desire being that at least one of the search-
ers might find a goal their records said existed. Then
they were overrun by their enemies.
Relay after relay clicked into life without a quiver of
fault as the arrow sped toward earth. It represented the
fruits of a thousand years of experimentation,'the highest
triumph of a race which had once traveled the starlanes
with the ease of men walking familiar paths on brown
earth. Made for one duty alone, it was now about to go
into the action for which it was programmed.
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It smoothly shifted into orbit about the planet and
prepared to descend in answer to the beacon call. As it
flashed across the sky men below watched its passage with
primitive awe. The knowledge which had once been theirs
was long since buried in myth.
Some cringed in skin tents as their shamans beat drums
and howled strange guttural chants. Others stared wide-
eyed and spoke of shooting stars which could be omens of
good or evil. It neared the mountain where the cave of
the beacon was hidden, then it broke apart.
The husk which had carried the so-precious cargo
through space opened and from it issued other objects.
They did not plunge instantly into the sea which was now
fast coming under the arrow; they spun away rather, as if
with volition of their own, winging for a mountainside.
They hovered for an instant or two in the air before
drifting easily to the ground. And if anyone in those
heights witnessed this, he did not speak of it again. These
particles were protected by a distortion of the fields of vis-
ibility. The makers had taken all precautions they could
foresee to protect their project.
Once on earth the jumble of objects produced append-
ages of their own and crawled steadily, with a mindless
need to unite with the failing power of the beacon. They
made their way into the cave.
In some places it was necessary to enlarge the passage-
way and that, too, had been foreplanned. But at length
they were all sheltered in the depths about the beacon,
MERLIN'S MIRROR 7
where they proceeded to go to work. Some of them cut
bases in the rock, settling themselves in with cable roots
from which they could never be' torn. Others rose from
the surface of the cave, hovering back and forth like great
mindless insects, except that they trailed coils of communi-
cating wire from one based installation to the next.
Within a space of time which they had no reason to
measure the net was complete; they were ready to begin
the work for which they had been programmed. If this
world had not been receptive there would have been no
beacon. Therefore, in the memory banks of the largest of
the based machines lay information that a systematic sam-
pling would bring into use.
One of the hovering fliers swung to the entrance of the
cave, sped outside. There was no moon that night; clouds
hung heavy in the sky. The flying thing was not much
larger than an eagle, and its distort had gone into action
when it had emerged in the open. Now it began to scout
in ever-widening circles, the photoeye it carried sending a
stream of reports back to the cave.
There was a dusting of snow on the heights and the
winds were sharp and cold, though the flying thing noted
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temperature only as another fact to be transmitted.
The fire in the center of the clan house was high. From
the balcony which circled the sleeping family rooms, Brig-
itta could look down at the men gathered below on bench-
es. The mingled smell of stable, cow byre, woodsmoke,
food and drink was as thick as the smoke. Yet there was a
solid, secure feeling when the clan house was closed at
night against the outer dark, when the hum of voices
flowed from chamber to chamber on the upper floor.
Brigitta shivered and drew her cloak closer about her
shoulders. This was Samain, the time between one year
and the next. Now the doors between this world and the
Dark could open, and demons could caper through or
crawl malevolently to attack man. There was safety here
by the cheer of fire, in the voices she could hear, the snort
of one of the horses stabled in the outermost circle of
stalls below. She picked up the tankard she had set on the
bench beside her and sipped at the barley ale it contained,
making a little face at its bitter taste but relishing the
warmth within her when she swallowed.
There were other women on the balcony benches, but
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none shared hers. Brigitta was the chief's daughter and so
took honor here. When the flames flickered they caught
the gold bracelet on her arm, the wide plaque necklace of
amber and bronze lying on her breast. Her red-brown hair
flowed free, nearly touching the floor behind her as she
sat, its color contrasting pleasantly with the strong blue of
her cloak, the embroidered length of the saffron yellow
robe beneath.
She was arrayed for a feast, yet this was no true. feast.
She bitterly resented the news which had drawn the men to
council and left the women to watch and yawn, gossip a
little. It was even stale gossip, for they had been together
for so long now that there was nothing new to say about
each other or events.
Brigitta moved restlessly. War—war with the Winged
Hats—that was all a man could think about. There was
little betrothing or marrying nowadays. And she was
growing older with every moon. Yet her father had not
singled out any lord for her. There was gossip behind
hands about that also, as. well she knew. If they had not
already, in time they would give her some flaw of tongue
or mind which would turn possible suitors from the door.
War. Brigitta gritted her teeth and the look with which
she regarded the company below had little kindness in it.
Man thought of fighting first and always. What^did it mat-
ter if the invaders crept along valleys miles away? What
difference should it make to the people of Nyren, safe in
their upland fortress? And now this babbling about the
evils wrought by the High King. She drank again.
So he had put aside his wife to wed the daughter of the
Saxon overlord.... Brigitta wondered what the new queen
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looked like. Vortigen was old; he had grown sons who
would be quick to raise sword for their shamed mother. A
messenger had brought the news that they were summon-
ing near and far kin to that very effort now. But the Sax-
ons would form a shield wall for the new queen, too. It
was all war! She could not remember back to a time when
there was not the clang of weapons about the clan house.
She need only raise her head a little to see the line of
weather-cleaned skulls set along the roof eaves above, the
spoils of wars and past raids.
She did not think that Nyren would have much sympa-
thy for the High King. Ten days ago another messengei
had ridden in to be received with a far warmer welcome: a
MERLIN'S MIRROR 9
lean, dark man with cleanly shaved face, wearing the
breastplate and helmet of the Emperor's men. The Em-
peror was long gone, though it was said that emperors still
ruled overseas. But the Imperial Eagles had been lost
from this land since her father was young,
It seemed that at least one leader still believed in the
Emperor. The dark man had come from him to ask Ny-
ren's men for his war banner, just as the messenger who
had spoiled the feast tonight. That one had had a strange,
tongue-twisting name, after the style of the Romans. Brig-
itta said it aloud now, proud that she knew enough of the
old speech to say it properly.
"Ambrosius Aurelianus." She added the equally strange
title he held, for he did not claim any kingdom, Dux Bri-
tanniae. Lugaid had said it meant Leader of Britain in the
other tongue. It was a lot for a man to claim when half
the land was filled with Vortigen's new kin, the Winged
Hats from overseas.
Her father had been schooled at Aquae Sulis in the old
days when the Emperor Maximus had ruled not only Brit-
ain, but half the lands overseas. He remembered how it
was when there was peace and one only had to fear the
Scotti raids or trouble along the border. So he was one
who had inclined to the Roman, one of those Vortigen
had hunted out of the cities because the High King feared
their influence.
Thus Nyren had returned to the clanship of his fathers,
had drawn around him those of kin blood. Perhaps he had
only been waiting ... Brigitta sipped her ale again. Her
father was one who kept his own counsel, even among the
kin.
She studied him now where he sat in the high seat of
the clan house. Though he wore the dress of the hills it
was in more somber colors than that of the men around
him. His tunic of fine linen had been worked by her own
hands with a pattern copied from an old vase, a wreathing
of leaves in threads of gilt and green. His trousers were of
dark red, his cloak of the same shade. Only the wide
torque of gold about his throat, the two brand-bracelets on
his wrists and the seal ring on his forefinger, equaled in
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splendor the ornaments of his fellows,
Yet he held authority among them, and no man enter-
ing the clan house and setting eyes on Nyren need ask
who was chief in this place. Brigitta felt the swell of pride
10 Andre Norton
as she watched him now, displaying not a flicker of emo-
tion as he listened with surface courtesy to the words'of
the High King's messenger, who was leaning forward,
plainly ill at ease as he tried to impress this small chief, as
the High King might rate Nyren.
But the influence of the lord of this clan reached
beyond the walls of his kin house and many among the
hills listened closely to any words of his. For his wisdom
was great and he was a wily and successful raider and war
leader. He might have called himself king, after the fash-
ion of others hereabouts, but he did not choose to do so.
Brigitta stirred again impatiently. She wished that her
father might speedily send the High King's man about his
business, that they might feast at their ease with no trou-
bling from the world outside on this night.
She could catch the roar of the wind above the sounds
of the court hall below. There was a storm, and a storm
on this night was unlucky. It might well carry the hosts of
the Dark to wreak their evil will on men.
Now she looked for Lugaid where he sat near her fa-
ther. He had the old knowledge and he had set up the
spirit protections about them this night. Though his un-
shaved beard was white, his lean body was not stooped,
nor did he have the signs of age about him. His white
robe was bright in the firelight and one thin hand stroked
his beard absentmindedly as he, too, listened to Vortigen's
man.
The Romans had striven to stamp out the old knowl-
edge and while they were in power men such as Lugaid
had moved secretly, keeping to their own silences. Now
they were honored once more among the kin and their
words were listened to. Brigitta doubted that Lugaid
would favor the High King, for he and his kind held the
ancient mysteries of this land and they liked the Winged
Hats no better than they had the Romans.
The ale was strong and made her a little dizzy. She
shoved the tankard aside, her eyes now drowsily watching
the play of the flames on the great hearth below. In and
out they danced, swifter, more gracefully, wilder than any
maid could weave her way across the grass on Beltaine
Eve. In and out. . . . Now the wind was roaring so loud
she could hardly catch more than an echo of the murmur
from below.
MERLIN'S MIRROR 11
It was dull anyway. This feast which had promised so
much in the way of excitement had been spoiled by the
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stupid affairs of war. Brigitta yawned widely. She was
both bored and disappointed. Distant kin had come riding
in yesterday, and she had had a wan hope that among
them her father would find a suitor he approved.
She tried now to search out those strangers below, find
one face which was to her own liking. But they were only
a blur of flesh, reddened by the flame play; the gaudy col-
ors of their plaid and checkered clothing bewildered her.
Though there were both young men and seasoned war-
riors, none had caught her attention when they arrived. Of
course she would have gone dutifully to the one her father
named.
That he did not name any was her present grievance.
They would march to war, all those possible suitors, and
many would die, so there would be far fewer to choose
among. It was a sad waste. She shook her head, muddled
by the ale she had drunk, the half-hypnotizing play of the
flames. Suddenly she could stand it no longer.
She rose from her bench and went back into her cham-
ber. The opposite door of her room opened out on the
parapet of the wall, their outer defense. It was tightly
closed, yet through it the whistle of the wind came even
closer. A lamp burned very dimly in the far comer. She
shrugged out of her robe and, in her chemise, her cloak
still about her, she burrowed into the covers of the bed
against the wall. She shivered, not so much from the chill
of the stone against which that bed was set as from the
menace of the wind and the tales she had heard of what
might ride its gusts this night of all nights. But she was
also sleepy and her eyes soon closed as the lamp sputtered
out.
Below, in the warmth of the fire, Lugaid's hand was
suddenly stilled. His head turned so that he no longer re-
garded Nyren or the man so eloquent in his plea for the
support of the hill chief and Ais people. It was as if the
priest of the Old Ones were listening to something else.
His eyes were wide, startled. Yet there was no sentry
hom sounding, or if there was, only his ears caught it. His
hand moved from his beard to the emblem embroidered
on the breast of his robe, the spiral of gold, as if he hardly
knew what he did or why his fingers traced the lines of
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Andre Norton
that spiral from outer edge to inner heart. He might have
been half-consciously seeking some answer of vast impor-
tance.
Now his eyes lifted to the balcony on which the women
sat, and he deliberately looked from face to half-seen face
until he came to a gap in their number. Sighting that, he
gave a small gasp. Then he glanced hastily right and left.
He might have feared that his involuntary sound had be-
trayed him in some manner, but the rest of the company
was intent on Nyren and the uninvited guest. Lugaid drew
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back a little, his eyes closed, a look of deep concentration
on his bearded face.
Planet time meant nothing to the installations. The
flying things reported, memory banks sorted, classified,
worked to feed information to the more sophisticated final
judge of the project. A decision was made, twice tested.
Then the most delicate and complicated portion of the
space-carried equipment was prepared.
Once more one of the fliers spiraled out. It made a
wider swing, its distort on full. The farthest reach of that
swing carried it across another spur of rock reaching sky-
ward. The beacon which had summoned the installation
out of space and time had died. Only now, deep within
other rocks beneath, another signal woke to life. Undetect-
ed by the flier, it began to pulsate, its wavelength sweep-
ing higher and higher as its energy built and roared to
full power.
Outward into the high heavens sped a new beam., climb-
ing starward. It would take a long time, perhaps years
for that warning to be caught by those who patrolled
there. But it could not be quenched. Ancient battles might
begin, lesser in force now than of old, because both ad-
versaries were depleted to a thousandth, a millionth of
the power they once possessed. Time and exhaustion had
not, however, wearied their resolve. They were as implac-
able as ever. Though now they must face each other with
new and lesser strength, yet they would do it.
The flier wheeled, coasted through a fierce wind, flut-
tered along within its grasp as a leaf might. Yet it was not
powerless; it had a task it must do and nothing man or
nature could devise in this time could prevent it from ac-
complishing that act.
MERLIN'S MIRROR 13
Brigitta slept heavily, yet it seemed to her that in truth
she waked. The wooden wall of the kin house was no long-
er about her. She stood instead on a path she knew well,
the one which led to the spring of prophecy where the
goddess might bless with eternal good fortune someone
who flung an offering. Nor was this the dread night of Sa-
main with its dark, veiled hunters waiting to ensnare man-
kind. About her now was the green freshness of first
spring, of Beltaine when the fires would burn high and
maids and men would leap over their flames hand and
hand, united in worship of those forces which increased
rather than diminished the tribes,
There was a golden light about her that did not come
from the sun overhead. It made a spear point which
reached to her sandaled feet, though the source remained
hidden by bushes just leafing with the spring. The glow
leaped up from that triangle of light into her heart, so she
laughed joyfully and began to run through the brilliance, a
great excitement filling her. Never had she felt so free, so
alive, so entirely happy as in this moment.
Then she saw him as he moved out of the green and
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stood waiting for her. This, her heart knew at once, was
the face she had so long searched for among the visitors
to the clan house, or in those few times when she had
traveled abroad. This was the one meant by the Great
Mother to give her full happiness.
He was all light, clothed with radiance and warmth. She
reached him and that warmth and light encased them both
in a private place which was theirs alone. No one else in
the world might ever find or share it. She was a part of
him and he was a part of her, and so they became one in
a way Brigitta could find no words to explain.
The world about them was golden, and it sang as if all
the true-toned birds in the woodlands raised their sweetest
notes at once to blend. She was lost in the warmth, the
song and in him until there was no Brigitta left, only an-
other one who was fulfilled as 'a field sown with grain is
fulfilled, ready to bring forth an abundant harvest.
In the clan house Lugaid edged back into the shadows.
His body swayed slightly to right and left; his features
were mask-like, without expression. He might have been
concentrating with his whole being on something he heard,
14 Andre Norton
or sensed or imagined. But with -that concentration was a
growing bewilderment. It was as if a man who each day
passed some long-ruined temple of a faceless, forgotten
god, suddenly heard from within that desolate sanctuary a
summons to a worship old beyond the memory of any
man.
Then bewilderment became exultation. The mask of
Lugaid's face broke and he was like one who, after years
of aridity from serving a lost cause, had been proved the
victor in truth. His hands folded over the spiral on his
breast, he whispered words in a tongue not of the tower
town which held him, nor of the Roman state which had
been torn into nothing, but a language far older than either.
La these latter days the words were largely meaningless
even to those very few who still learned them as part of a
discredited ancient belief.
Above, Brigitta smiled, crooned, stretched her arms to
embrace him who stood in her dreams. And over the
chief's hold the flying thing began a slow downward flight.
Swooping through the roof opening, it unerringly found the
inner door of the chamber in which the girl lay.
Within the cave the installations hummed to a high
pitch and then began to sink again, almost drowsily, as
though some beast had used its powers to the uttermost
and must now rest to recoup its strength. But in that other
distant crag there was no ceasing of outward flow. The
beam signal strengthened, searched out farther and far-
ther, a finger crooking into space to draw down aid in the
old, old war.
Lugaid's eyes were open, fixed on the door of Brigitta's
chamber. He could only guess a small portion of what had
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happened there this night, and of that he would say noth-
ing until he was sure. But he drew a deep breath of won-
der that such a thing could happen in these troubled days.
The gods had long since withdrawn, yet it would seem
that they still lived. He must go as soon as possible to the
Place of Power. Surely there he would find some answer,
some assurance that this thing had meaning for his people.
He heard the drone of voices about him and knew im-
patience. They occupied themselves only with the things of
MERLIN'S MIRROR 15
this earth, with death. Yet this night he was sure the
things of the sky had touched here and brought life, not
death. Truly this was the hour that legend promised, when
the Sky Lords would come again!
2.
It was thickly hot within the upper chamber. Brigitta,
between the waves of pain, longed to lay her swollen body
in the stream which ran from the Fortunate Spring. She
was dimly aware that most of the people in the fort vil-
lage had been gone before sunup, out into the fields to cel-
ebrate the Feast of Lughnasa when the harvest fell to the
sickle. Julia, who had been her mother's nurse, sat pa-
tiently beside her, dipping a cloth into a basin of tepid
water, using that to wipe the dripping salt-sweat from the
girl's face. There was a brazier in the far comer and from
that came the scent of burning herbs, strong enough to
make Brigitta cough and gasp when some trick of the
breeze blew it in her direction. They had opened all the
doors within the house, untied all knots, done what they
might to make this birth an easy one. But, Brigitta
thought dully, it was not easy. How could it be easy for a
mortal woman to bear the son of a god?
The past months—how strangely they had eyed her. It
was only Lugaid's prophecy which had kept the kin from
laying black shame on her and so on the House of Nyren.
There had been times when she would have willingly taken
her own sharp dagger and cut from her living body this
thing some strange force had, bred in her. It was very hard
now to remember the golden happiness of her dream,
though Lugaid had assured her that it had actually been
no dream, but that one of the Sky Sons had come to claim
her.
Now she knew nothing but the pain, and between the
onset of that, the fear that the next would be worse and
worse. Yet she set her teeth and would not cry out. If one
bore a god's son one did not wail him into the world.
Her body heaved again and Julia was quick beside her.
Then Lugaid somehow was there also, his dark eyes hold-
16
MERLIN'S MIRROR 17
ing hers. And from that meeting of their gaze came a
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strangeness which removed her from the pain, sent her
spinning far out among sparks of light which might be
stars....
"A son." Julia placed the baby on the fair piece of linen
ready to receive it.
"A son." Lugaid nodded as if he had had no doubts
from the first that this would be so. "His name is Myrd-
din."
Julia looked at him with hostility. "It is the father who
names the son."
"His name is Myrddin." The Druid dipped a finger into
the bowl of water and touched the baby's breast. "His fa-
ther would have it so."
Julia hunched a shoulder. "You talk of Sky Lords," she
sniffed. "I am not denying that you saved my lady from
shame with such, when there were those who believed. But
there is not one even under this roof who believed wholly,
or will ever do so. They will say 'son of no man' and talk
tattle afar."
"Not long." Lugaid shook his head. "This will be the
first of his kind and through him the old days will return.
Those tales of the past are not only fhe words of bards
meant to amuse. Within them lies a core of truth. Look to
the babe, and your mistress." He glanced at Brigitta with
less interest, as if, having served her purpose, she was of
lesser account now.
Julia made a sound close to a snort. She bustled about
caring for the child, who did not cry, but lay looking
about him. In those few moments after his entrance into
the world, he seemed far more aware of his surroundings
than any infant should rightfully be. And the nurse, noting
that odd awareness, made a certain sign before she
gathered him up. Brigitta slept heavily.
It would seem that in Myrddin's early childhood Julia
had the right measurement of the feeling within the kin
house. He was indeed "son of-no man," but since the chief
accepted—outwardly at any rate—Lugaid's assurance that
his daughter had been impregnated by a Sky Lord, the
boy was not openly shamed. Neither did he find any ready
acceptance among those of his own generation, however.
In the first place he was oddly slow to leam. The
women of the house looked on his backwardness as a fit-
18 Andre Norton
ting answer to the mystery of his conception. Nor was he
forward in walking either. Had it not been for the fierce
championship of Julia he might have been neglected, al-
lowed to fade away into early death. For within six
months of his birth Brigitta had been given in marriage to
a widowed clan leader old enough to have fathered her.
She left Nyren's fortress and her son behind.
She had made no protest over his separation for, from
file:///F|/rah/Andre%20Norton/Norton,%20Andre%20-%20Merlin's%20Mirror.txt (10 of 168) [1/17/03 1:15:25 AM]
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file:///F|/rah/Andre%20Norton/Norton,%20Andre%20-%20Merlin's%20Mirror.tx\t1.•^^^^^^vM^wff^r^t^M'f^f^rf^^rf^r^f^^f^f^f^f^ffff^f^yThebeaconstillcalledfromdeepwithintherough-walledfastnessofthecave.Itsmessagewasfainternow.Eachplanetyearhadputmorestrainuponthismecha-nism,thoughitscreatorshadattemptedtom...

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分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：168 页 大小：359.74KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-22

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