Black Unicorn by Tanith Lee (best e book reader .TXT) 📕

Beyond, Tanaquil and Lizra climbed up through the ice country. On the white plains no clockwork snow leopards prowled, and at the stairhead no animal emerged to threaten them.

Lizra stopped before the archway. “Don’t come in,” she said. “If you stay by the door, he won’t see.”

Inside, the library was dark and lamplit. The doorway to the roof was shut and curtains were drawn over. In this light the books looked ancient and false. Not one butterfly flew in the room. Does he even fear those, now?

“Lizra . . . Is that Lizra?”

“Yes, Father. It’s me.”

Tanaquil had not made him out at first. In the darkest corner he hunched in his fine chair. He wore an old gray robe. His black hair, without a diadem, seemed too young for him.

“Do you see?” said Lizra. Her voice was now neutral. Was she afraid to show triumph? “Yesterday, from the roof, he saw the two men in the unicorn-hide—do you remember?—the back half was drunk. And my father screamed in terror. He ordered out the soldiers to hunt the beast and kill it. Of course, they didn’t. The city,” Lizra looked down, “the city values me be cause I didn’t run away like the Procession, when the black unicorn came from the sea. The Prince is disgraced. Would they have dared attack Gasb otherwise? My father needs me.”

“Lizra, I can hear whispering. What is it? Is there someone there?”

“Only a servant, Father.”

“Lizra. Come here, Lizra, tell me what happened at the Gate of the Beast.”

Tanaquil said swiftly, lightly, “I saw another world. Which wasn’t fair. I should have seen this world first. I’m going to travel it now, I’ll look at it. All the far cities. The deserts, the forests, the mountains, the seas. It’s what I must do. Come with me.”

“Lizra,” said the Prince, in the tone of a man two hundred years old, “you’re my daughter. Be honest with me. Did you see the Beast?”

“No, Father. The Beast’s gone. We’re safe now.”

“If I wait,” said Tanaquil, “a few days, a week—”

“My answer would have to be the same.” Lizra smiled. She

was several beings at once as she stood there. A girl who wassorry, a girl who was a sister, a woman who would rule, a child who wanted to be a child. She was sly and arrogant, sad andwistful, proud and immovable, selfish. Lonely.

Like me. Just like me.

“Have this,” said Lizra, unfastening the wreath of rubies from her neck.

“I’m not Yilli.”

“Of course you’re not. I wish I didn’t have to lose you.Take the jewelry. It’ll buy things that are useful.”“Thank you,” said Tanaquil. She held out her empty palmand let the rubies drop into it.

Then Lizra hugged her. Not as she had hugged the peeve, with easy, immediate affection, but in a quick and stony way,afraid to do more. The embrace of farewell.

And then Lizra went into her father’s library and across theshiny lamplit floor. And Zorander looked up at her and held outhis hand, which she took.

“You’re my comfort now,” he said.

The peeve growled, a soft sandy sound.

“Goodbye,” said Tanaquil. She tugged on the lead.

The peeve bounded ahead down the three flights of stairs. On the green landing they picked their way through peoplewalking precariously on their fingers.

Don’t we all?

Only one caravan was due to set out for the eastern city that day.

As she approached the leader’s awning on the edge of thebazaar, Tanaquil found Gork and his men dealing with the camels and baggage.

“Well, aren’t you smart?” said Gork, shaking all his discsand adornments, and striking his leg rapidly with the goad. “Butstill got that animal. And still dressed as a man. That’s not right,you know.”

“Much better for traveling,” said Tanaquil with precaution ary sweetness.

“What? Not married?”

“Oh, you know how these things are.”

Gork was pleased. “You want to come with us to East City?I can fix it.”

“No, I’m afraid not. But I wondered if someone from yourcaravan could make a detour; I can give exact directions, about half a day’s ride. It’s to deliver an urgent letter to a fortress in thedesert. I’ll pay very well.”

“How much?” Tanaquil, who had bartered carefully with asmall topaz and one of the rubies, suggested a healthy sum. “I’ll do it. No trouble. You’ve got a map?”

“Yes, I had it drawn up only an hour ago. Here.”

Gork took money, map, and letter. He showed her the goldwatch. “It goes, never misses. And you’re prosperous now. I suppose you’re not still courting?”

“Unluckily, I am. Isn’t it a nuisance?”

Gork grinned. “Till we meet again.”

Tanaquil sat near the perfume-makers’ booths and thoughtof Gork riding out to her red-haired mother’s fort in all hisgrandeur. What would happen? Anything might.The peeve began to eat some perfumed soap, and Tanaquilremoved it.

The letter would perhaps only annoy Jaive. It told of the resolution of the adventure, and of the perfect world. It asked arespectful question, witch to sorceress: “Do you believe the unicorn will have any trouble there from the additions I had tomake to its bones, the copper and other metal I added? Will italways now, because of them, keep some link to this earth?”Tanaquil did not mention the gift of invulnerability—Jaive might grow hysterical. In any case, Tanaquil did not yet quite believe init. Nor did she speak of the two creamy fossils fashioned to betwo earrings at a jeweller’s on Palm Tree Avenue, and worn inher ears. Not vanity, but the ultimate in common sense. Whowould recognize them now? “Mother, I must see this world. Later, one day, I’ll come back. I promise that. I’m not my father, not Zorander. I won’t leave you . . . that is, I won’t let you renounce me. When we meet again, we’ll have things to talk about. It will be exciting and new. You’ll have to trust me, please.”

“Leave that soap alone!”

With her own map of the oases and the wells, and the townsof the eastern desert, Tanaquil set out near sunset on the stern old camel she