The Silence of Medair

If possible, he was even more impeccably presented than usual. She tried without success to isolate what it was that seemed different as he withdrew a slender cylinder of parchment from one sleeve of his robe. Not a hair was out of place, not a single crease marred his full robe of pale green and blue. She wondered how he made it shimmer so, whether he had the vanity to use magic to enhance his appearance. She was distracted from such speculation when he leaned forward and offered her the parchment.

Unsure what this signified, she accepted it cautiously and unrolled the tight cylinder as he settled himself back with that characteristic absence of expression. A map, not much wider than her two hands side by side. Drawn in detail with a fine hand, it was immediately recognizable as Farakkan. And all wrong.

Medair noted the forest grown larger in the north-west and the dark border which surrounded most of the lands south of the Girdle of Farak. She frowned over the absence of borders between Farash, Kyledra, Mymentia, Corland and Northern Histammeral, unable to understand the significance of the irregularly-shaped blobs outlined in the midst of these lands. "The Shimmerlan" was written across the entire area. Then she gasped.

It couldn’t be. Medair counted the scattering of blobs, most numerous where the western reaches of the Girdle of Farak…had been.

"Islands," she whispered.

"Just so," Cor-Ibis agreed. "I asked Keris N’Taive, the Herald from Ashencaere, for a map to ascertain the location of the Isle of Clouds. I imagine you will not be surprised to learn that we were not long ago very close to it."

At that moment, Medair was less concerned with his attempt to shock her into an admission than the fact that her homeland was covered with water.

"What about the people?" she asked, still stunned. "Has everyone drowned?"

Cor-Ibis made a complicated gesture with his hands: negation and lack of knowledge combined. "Keris N’Taive speaks of beings called Alshem, who dwell in the waters of the Shimmerlan and trade with those on the islands. Mer-folk, if you will. Many of the islands correspond with the cities of the lands which have vanished: Thrence, Varden, Sarenal."

"Dwell? Mer-folk?" She shook her head, studying what little detail such a small map was able to give of this inland ocean. "Half Farak’s Girdle seems to be gone."

"But not Bariback," Cor-Ibis replied, returning to the point. "The Isle of Clouds, where Lady Night, Voren Dreamer, makes her home and the Four have been known to hold Council. Kel, why does Estarion hunt you?"

"Out of idiocy, it seems to me," Medair said, twisting one side of her mouth. She studied this man who owed her his life, who was the blood of her enemy and innocent of their crimes. Who held to the same Ibisian honour which had destroyed the Empire. He watched her in return, his eyes silver mirrors, his demeanour too like one she hated for comfort.

"I would be on Bariback Mountain now, if it were not for Decian interference. Or the Isle of Clouds, whatever it’s called." She glanced with some awe at the parchment she held. "I don’t care to think what I might have become, out there. Mer-folk and flying horses."

"Despite the Conflagration, you are still hunted."

Medair shrugged. What could she say to this Ibisian who was important to her? Should her undefined feeling for him make any difference to the greater question? "Do you hold out hope of surviving this attack, Keridahl?"

"There is always hope. Athere faces a great threat – her walls are strong and woven with magic, but we deal with an unknown quantity along with strength of numbers and casting to equal our own. The fruits of wild magic, as yet not fully known. Why does Estarion hunt you, Kel?"

"Not to fire his troops with tales of Medair an Rynstar reborn," she replied, sourly.

"No. Answer my question, Kel. I am not able to allow you the luxury of continued evasion."

This was better. Threats would make it easier. "Would you force me then, Keridahl?"

"If you were allied with Estarion, then I would be wise to at the very least restrict your movements."

"I’ve never met the man," Medair protested. "Besides, why would he hunt me, if I worked for him?"

"Why would he offer you protection?"

"I doubt it’s concern for my health and well-being."

As an attempt to rile a White Snake, Medair’s answers failed miserably. He just looked at her, pale eyes stripping away her veneer of carelessness to the confusion beneath.

"Kel, we face a battle beyond the scope of any before brought to these walls. War to be waged on young and old alike, with the promise of slaughter without mercy. We will not bargain with Estarion, for the reward he sets upon your life is none we would care to accept. But such a demand can only mean that you have a value we have not yet realised. If there is some knowledge you hold, I would ask that you share it."

"I have no knowledge of Estarion," Medair replied.