No one can ever know what magic they possessed, or even what spells linger in a place like this. If you think our little mountain is vast, consider this. An immortal could spend all his days here and never examine it all.”
“But the people who built this? Where did they go?”
“I have taught you to read, Ginna, and I have a book I must show you sometime. It is by the philosopher Telechronos, who said that the ages of existence are like the times of the day. The cultures of the Dawn rose and built their cities, and those people imagined themselves to be all of history, and indeed they were in a way. But when their cities were as the mounds you have seen among the hills, when they moved no longer and their eyes were closed, then came the Morning, when works were mightier yet. In the brightness of Noon mankind climbed yet higher, attaining other realms and other worlds even. What you see before you is a city of the Afternoon, when the heights had been scaled and the spirit of man rested in the warmth of the sun.”
The boy was silent. He thought for a minute, puzzled. “But if this is so, where do we fit in?”
“Our place in the procession, the book says, is toward the end. We are creatures of the twilight. No more impression than the shadow of a cloud shall we leave behind, when both Ai Hanlo and this you see before you are dust. But while it stands, we can at least admire the corpse of something greater than ourselves. The spirit has passed from man, said Telechronos.”
“But what comes after us?”
“If there is another age, I think it will begin a whole new cycle. Perhaps there will be a place for mankind in it, perhaps not. I think even the laws and shapes of things, and the passing of time will be entirely different. In fact there is a curious prophecy—Telechronos himself made it when he lay dying. With his last breath he told of seeing a shining face looking down into his, saying that when at last one understands himself, the end will be the beginning and the beginning the end and the new age will open.”
Neither of them said a word as they returned to the city. Tharanodeth was too exhausted to carry him, so Ginna walked. He cut his feet on sharp stones but never complained. After a while the old man leaned on his shoulder. They rested often. After a long time, when both were faint from thirst and hunger, the towers of Ai Hanlo rose above the dry hills. It was nearly evening when they found their way into the tunnel, and the sun had set before they returned to The Guardian’s chamber. When they got there people were knocking on the outer door and ringing bells, calling out, “Dread Lord, Noble sovereign, urgent news. Pressing business.”
“It’s always urgent and pressing business,” sighed Tharanodeth. “Whenever I go away it piles up like water behind a dam.”
He let the boy out through a secret way, then went to face his courtiers. But just as he opened the door he fell down unconscious and they carried him to his bed, letting the affairs of state pile up even more.
* * * *
When he was twelve, Ginna saw Tharanodeth for the last time. The Guardian had not sent for him for several weeks, and he was disturbed by the silence. There was no message. But then The Guardian’s man came to him and nodded, and he knew how to go and where. He found the old man lying in his bed, and for the first time Tharanodeth seemed truly old to him. His long white beard seemed scraggly, no longer smooth and fine; his face was shrunken and pale; his bones were like a stark wooden frame over which a thin blanket of flesh had been draped.
Charms made from the skulls of men and animals hung from the bedposts. An intricately carven staff of polished ebony leaned against the wall where it could be easily reached.
The boy looked at the staff with dread. He knew what it was.
“Yes, it is for my last journey,” said Tharanodeth. “I have my walking shoes on, too.” He pulled up the blanket so Ginna could see them.
“Please... don’t...”
“Die? Please don’t die?” the Guardian laughed softly. Then he sighed. His breath was wheezing and tired. “I’m afraid none of us has much control over that, any more than we can prevent our epoch giving way to another. Telechronos said that He said it all, the old windbag. But listen to me, my friend. Yes, you are my friend. Guardians aren’t supposed to have friends. They can’t. Everybody wants something, or spies for this faction or is in the power of that lord. It is like a cave of spiders, each spinning webs to entrap the rest He who sits aloof, beyond all that, is the most alone. I have only you. You are the only one who is not tainted by intrigue. This is why I have tried to keep your comings and goings a secret. Of course a few people know. But they’ll keep quiet for a while yet, I hope.”
“But, why me?”
“There had to be someone. I think I would have gone mad without you. Some guardians have, you know, although their subjects interpret their madness as holy ecstasy. And why not you? You are mysterious enough to hold my interest Yes, very mysterious. I think there is more to you than the eye can see.”
“What? How am I so mysterious?”
“Who were your parents?”
Ginna was left speechless by the directness of the question. All he could utter was a babble of half-formed words. He sat down on a stool by the bedside and stared at his friend for a while in silence. All around him flickered scented candles, set there to attract the Bright Powers and drive off the Dark. Some sputtered. This and the old man’s dry breathing were the only sounds.
With a great heave The Guardian sat up, turned, and took the boy by the shoulders. He stared intently into his eyes.
“You didn’t have any parents,” he said. “You know that much already.”
“I was... found.”
“But do you know where?”
Ginna shook his head.
“In the same cradle with that horror of a son of mine. You didn’t know that, did you? Did you know that everyone said you were bewitched? My magician wanted you killed. He’s a fusty old buzzard, but he means well, so I think he really felt there was a danger to me. But I said no. I saw a destiny in you. I don’t know what. These things have a way of working themselves out. But something special.”
Exhausted at the strain of sitting up, he let go of the boy and dropped down onto his pillows.
Moved near to tears, wanting to open himself as fully to Tharanodeth as he had to him, Ginna did something he had never done before in The Guardian’s presence. He folded his hands together, then opened them, then folded them, until he had made a dozen balls of light and juggled them. They drifted slowly, none of them brighter than the candles. When he stopped they fell on the bed and the floor and winked out.
“Then it is true. You are magical.”
“I can do what you just saw. When I first came to you, I was afraid to. After that, I guess I never did.”
Tharanodeth smiled. “I never asked you to.”
“It’s as easy as talking or moving my fingers, but I don’t think there’s anyone else who can do it. I don’t know what it means.”
“I had really hoped you would,” said The Guardian, staring up at the ceiling, where the two aspects of The Goddess looked down on him. “I am going into a far country, from which I shall never return. They say that when we depart thence, when we walk the last long road, if we are brave
