Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law (14 page)

Far down the
valley, a vast herd of horses grazed, spotting the velvet green
with many colours. The Aggapae had kept their numbers down,
preserved the grazing and saved the chosen from having to cull the
beautiful beasts. Herds of sheep and cattle grazed alongside the
horses, unchanged by the chaos, guarded by their herdsmen. Above
her, ugly brown clouds roiled, shot with flickers of silent
lightning, parting occasionally to allow golden sunlight through.
Safe within the sphere of Mujar power, life in the valley remained
tranquil. The chaos outside was sometimes evident in the massive
black storms that passed overhead, strangely coloured lightning
stabbing the swirling clouds in a savage frenzy. The howling winds
did not enter the vale, however, and the rain that reached them
fell gently and pure, cleansed by its passage through Chanter’s
wards.

Talsy pondered
what had happened in the six years that had passed since the
remaking of the Staff of Law. Travain’s development had been her
greatest source of despair, and only Chanter had been able to save
her from utter desolation with his gentle sympathy. At one year of
age, Travain had developed the broken Mujar mark. Instead of the
circle and cross, his appeared like a star, a broken circle with a
fragmented cross within it. Chanter had hissed and recoiled from it
with horror in his eyes. He had left the valley soon after, and she
had not seen him for weeks. She had watched Travain closely,
frightened by his father’s reaction. At that age, Travain could
already walk and talk, and, shortly after the mark had appeared,
his golden hair had turned brown and his blue eyes green. To
Talsy’s intense disappointment, he had appeared to be a
five-year-old Trueman boy in both stature and intelligence, his
appetite growing with him.

A month after
the mark had appeared, Travain had proved that he was certainly not
Trueman. In an incident involving a boyish prank, a bowl of hot
water and a cook’s stout leather belt, Travain had discovered his
powers. The fire had burnt the cook badly, and Talsy had discovered
her son’s true nature. Travain had sneered at the cook’s suffering,
refusing to help her. Talsy had gone after him with a strap,
determined to beat some goodness into him. She fingered the scars
on her hands, frowning at the memory. She had cornered Travain in
the courtyard, hauled him out of his hiding place under a barrow by
his scruff and bent him over her knee. It had not occurred to her
that he would burn her, too.

The pain had
made her scream Chanter’s name, and the Mujar had arrived in
moments as a sooty raven. She had hung onto Travain despite the
fire, and Chanter had summoned Crayash. Travain had already held
it, however, and what had ensued was a battle that should never
have occurred. Travain had faced his father fearlessly, his green
eyes filled with malice. Talsy had released him, but he was
engrossed in the war of wills with the Mujar. What had followed was
imprinted on her memory forever.

Chanter’s eyes
narrowed as he realised that he could not simply snuff out the fire
Travain held. Talsy whimpered and nursed her hands, wondering what
he would do. Chanter bent and invoked Dolana, causing a wall of
rock to shoot up between her and the boy. Travain eyed it and
smiled coldly at his father.

Chanter cocked
his head. “Why do you burn your mother?”

“
She’s weak,” the boy sneered.

“
You would hurt those weaker than you?”

“
She wanted to hurt me!”

Chanter raised
his brows at Talsy, who had risen to stand behind the chest-high
wall. She said, “He burnt the cook! I wanted to punish him.”

“
The cook tried to beat me too!” Travain shouted in his piping
voice.

The Mujar
shook his head in confusion, and Talsy explained, “He poured hot
water on her; she was going to punish him. I thought it was an
accident, but then he refused to heal her. If he can burn, he can
heal.”

“
Yes.” Chanter nodded. “He can.”

“
I can do anything,” Travain crowed, “and no one can stop
me!”

“
Wrong, Travain,” his father informed him calmly. “I
can.”

“
You!” the boy said, “Mujar scum!”

Chanter
glanced at Talsy. For a moment she thought he would leave, but he
could not without leaving her at Travain’s mercy. He hesitated,
staring at the ground, then looked at his rebellious, scowling son
again.

“
You are unchosen.” He spoke the words as if they were a death
sentence, and Travain’s scowl deepened.

“
So what?”

“
Oh, Travain,” Talsy groaned, “how could you?”

Travain’s lip
curled as he glanced at his mother. “Lowman slut. I don’t care what
you think of me.”

Chanter looked
puzzled. “If your mother’s a Lowman slut, and I’m Mujar scum, what
are you?”

“
Better than both of you.”

Talsy gasped,
horrified. She had been proud of his intelligence, but he had never
spoken like this before. His metamorphosis with the discovery of
his powers shocked her, and she could hardly believe that he was
the child she had reared.

Chanter
frowned at her. “What would you have me do to him?”

“
Punish him!” she said, glaring at her son. “If I can’t, then
you must be able to.”

“
Harm him?”

“
Yes.” She hated the necessity of it and the anguish it would
cause Chanter. “Trueman children must be taught the difference
between right and wrong. They’re not born with the knowledge, like
Mujar. You must show him that he can’t harm others without drawing
punishment upon himself, or he’ll do it again.”

Chanter nodded
and turned to Travain. “What’s your true name, boy? I know you have
one.”

“
I wouldn’t tell you that, I’m not stupid.”

The Mujar
sighed, glancing at Talsy. “For what I am forced to do here today,
I will owe regret. But not to you, boy, to your mother. She’s asked
me to punish you, and I see that it’s needed, and that no one else
can do it. I must inflict harm, which is against Mujar tradition,
and abhorrent to me.”

“
I don’t give a fig for your Mujar ways,” Travain said, his
eyes narrowed.

“
You should, since you’re part Mujar, and therefore you have
our weaknesses, as well as our strengths.”

“
What weaknesses?” Travain demanded, frowning.

“
I’ll show you.”

Chanter closed
the gap between them in a lithe bound and gripped the little boy’s
arms. Fire burst from Travain as he strived to defend himself, but
Chanter ignored it, pinned his arms to his sides and pushed him
down on the ground. Travain struggled wildly, screaming at the top
of his lungs as the Mujar straddled him, holding him to the cold
stone floor. Travain’s fire roared savagely around his father, the
two engulfed in a blaze of green-streaked blue flames. The boy
howled and kicked in vain, and within moments, his fire died. Still
Chanter held him down, waiting as the child’s screams of rage
turned to sobs of self-pity and growing trepidation. Talsy hardened
her heart as he called out to her for help, the pain of her burnt
hands reminding her of his cruelty. Chanter watched Travain’s
growing discomfort dispassionately.

“
Unpleasant, isn’t it? Your first taste of Dolana. You’ve
always been pampered with soft beds and chairs; you’ve never felt
it before. This is a Mujar’s weakness. This is what holds us in the
Pits and allows Lowmen to harm us. Soon you won’t even be able to
move.”

“
Let me go!” Travain shouted.

“
Tell me your true name.”

“
No!”

“
I’ll hold you here until you do, and this will grow
worse.”

“
If you don’t let me up now, I’ll kill you! I’ll cut you into
little pieces and feed you to the dogs!”

Chanter shook
his head. “You can’t threaten me.”

“
Then I’ll kill her!” Travain turned to glare at his mother,
and Talsy recoiled from the venom in his eyes.

The Mujar
glanced at her, then back at his son. “No you won’t. If you don’t
give me your true name, the people will bind you with gold, then
you’ll be as powerless as they, and harmless.”

Travain
squirmed and wept, unable to wriggle free of Chanter’s hold. He
shivered and said, “Okay, I’ll tell you, just let me go!”

“
No, tell me first, then I’ll let you go.”

Travain seemed
hardly able to move, and Talsy marvelled at his stubbornness. Even
he had his limits, however, and at last he snarled, “Drummer! My
name’s Drummer!”

Chanter
nodded. “Give it to your mother.”

Desperate to
be free of the Dolana, Travain twisted his head to look at her. “My
name’s Drummer!”

Chanter
released him, rose to his feet and yanked the child up by one arm.
Travain tottered, then jerked free and ran from the courtyard.
Talsy gazed after him with despair; Chanter shot her a sad glance.
Appearing to shake himself from unpleasant thoughts, the Mujar let
the wall sink back into the ground and came over to examine her
hands. He led her to a bucket of water left by a kitchen maid and
used its powers to heal her. When the pain subsided, she slumped
against the barrow under which Travain had been hiding. Hot tears
leaked from her eyes, and Chanter wiped them away.

“
He didn’t use his full power. Your burns were superficial. He
only meant to hurt you, presumably so you’d let him go. If he had
truly wanted to, he could have killed you easily. He’s not that
bad, and it’ll be all right now, you can use his true name to
control him.”

“
How can he be so vicious when he’s so Mujar?” she asked. “He
even has his own name.”

“
No. One thing he’s not, and that’s Mujar. He’s a Trueman boy
with Mujar powers. He’s exactly half of each, thus the broken mark,
neither one nor the other, but his spirit is Trueman.”

“
You always knew he’d be like this, didn’t you?”

“
I feared it,” he admitted. “He’s dangerous now. You must warn
people, and make him give his true name to as many as you can. I
would cast him out, for on top of everything else, he’s
unchosen.”

“
How can he be? He was raised amongst chosen, and he’s known
you since birth!”

“
He’s very confused and angry. He knows he’s not like you or
me, so he hates us both. Perhaps he has a little Mujar lore
floating around in his brain, and this angers him further, for he
doesn’t understand it.”

Talsy looked
down at his arm. Red marks covered it to the elbow with twisting
patterns, like the burns of tiny flames. “What’s this?”

He pulled
away. “It’s not important.”

“
He hurt you!”

Chanter took
her hand. “Come, let’s find that cook and heal her.”

“
I should go and talk to him. Maybe I can help him to deal
with what he is.”

“
Later. Let him calm down first.”

When she had
spoken to him, Travain had glared at her, his hatred plain. For
months, she had tried every way she could to reach him, to give him
love, which he had spurned, to help him understand himself, which
he had refused to accept. She had made him give his true name to as
many people as she could, and explained how to use it to control
him. After that, a semblance of normality returned to the castle,
as Travain, unable to harm people, resorted to sulking and hiding.
Within a few months, he mastered his powers, and roamed the valley
in various green-eyed shapes. Unlike a true Mujar, the forms did
not come naturally to him, and he could only emulate what he saw.
Like his father, he spent little time in the castle, and shunned
his mother’s company. Talsy missed Chanter terribly again, with
only Kieran and Sheera for company. She and Kieran still argued
often, but sometimes spent hours in pleasant conversation, took
long walks and had picnics by the lake.

Over the
years, Travain continued to grow rapidly, but not as fast as the
first year. At two he appeared to be a seven-year-old, at three
more than nine. He enjoyed cruel jokes and vandalism, and sometimes
killed livestock to annoy a farmer, or set fire to sheds and
frightened people in the form of a great shaggy dog. His limited
repertoire of shapes hampered him, for people soon learnt what they
were and recognised him. His ability to kill horrified Talsy, and
the animals in the valley feared him. The children soon learnt to
stay away from him, and the only person who accepted him was Talsy,
whose company he rarely sought. Chanter avoided him, and Kieran
tried unsuccessfully to befriend him. Travain became a lonely,
bitter little boy who grew into an angry, malicious youth. At six
years of age, he appeared to be a stocky young man of eighteen,
broad shouldered and coarse featured, lacking any trace of his
father’s slender beauty or gentle nature.

Talsy sighed
and leant against the battlements, her eyes narrowed against the
sun that burst through the ugly clouds to bathe the valley in
golden light. She had not seen Travain for three days, and Chanter
for almost a week. As Kieran had warned her, her half Mujar son
roamed free, just like his father. At least she did not have to
worry about him, for he was undying. Her dream of bearing a
beautiful, gentle son who would honour his parents and comfort her
in Chanter’s absence had become a nightmare of guilt and shame.

The evening
chill invaded the air, and she rubbed goose bumps from her arms,
turning to enter the castle’s warmth. On her way down to her rooms,
she paused outside the door to the room containing the Staff of
Law. After a moment’s hesitation, she pushed it open and entered.
The sunset’s slanted rays gilded the ancient stone staff in its
velvet-draped cradle, glinting on the silver ornaments she had
placed around it, donated by the chosen. They, too, wanted the gods
to take notice of the restored staff, and many precious possessions
adorned the room. For several years, they had brought wreaths and
garlands to drape over the staff and around the room, but as time
passed and the gods took no notice, this practice had waned. Now a
few mouldering flowers hung in dry vases, gathering dust like the
staff.