Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law (29 page)

She smacked
him playfully, and he pretended to be mortally injured by it,
making her giggle. He heaved her off his lap and stood up, leading
her into the corridor.

“
All this talk has made me hungry, let’s eat.”

Chapter Eleven

Chanter tended Travain each day, allowing no one else entry.
He kept the window open, for the stench of rotting flesh hung heavy
in the air, making even him a little queasy. Dancer had accompanied
him once and retreated quickly, refusing to enter the room again.
Each day, Chanter stripped away the rotting flesh that covered
Travain and cleaned the suppurating holes that opened to eject
unwanted Trueman organs. Foul ichor ran from his ears and nose, and
his brown hair fell out in a matted mass. He remained apparently
lifeless, his
tallana
softened to allow the Mujar to tend him. Chanter removed
buckets of decaying flesh, drawing many curious glances from people
as he passed with his stinking loads. He buried it behind the
castle, aware that he was burying Talsy’s flesh, her Trueman blood
that could no longer mingle with Mujar under the laws.

Most nights he
spent with her, using his magic to carry her into the realm of
dreams and forget her worries for a few hours. They lay together in
a misty forest glade, upon a river of frozen starlight, and amid
the soft shimmering hues of a rainbow while rain fell from a sunny
sky. They laughed and played together in a private magical world of
Chanter’s creation, walked across the silver moon path on a calm
black sea and lay in its languid swells.

The more he
showed Talsy of his secret memories, the more they fascinated her,
and a growing realisation dawned within her. They were not his
memories, but came from a different time, different incarnations of
his long and many-faceted existence. It came to her on the night he
transported her to a realm of moonlit sea and they lay together on
water that streamed like silk beneath them, and a sweet musky scent
filled the air. It was the memory of a sea creature, content in its
watery element, augmented by Chanter’s fire, which burnt in the
water and heated it to a warm, undulating bed.

Chanter shared
her delight in his memories of past lives glimpsed through the
portal of his power, which held the key to recollections long
forgotten. All that came to him were settings, sensations and
scents, but the joy of being at one with this world was new to
Talsy, and she loved it. As she sampled the feast of sensations he
set before her, so he shared the strange rush of emotions each
evoked in her, and the pleasure she gained from his touch. The
sharing of minds taught him much about Truemen, some of which he
marvelled at, while other parts confused him.

Chanter
enjoyed her pleasure at the new vistas he showed her, but could not
understand her fascination with his form. To a Mujar, his body was
merely a vessel for his soul, a link between the spiritual and
physical worlds, and a fleshy receptacle in which to live for a
hundred years. To Talsy, his physical appearance was a source of
great allure, and she seemed to find his proximity most enjoyable.
He, on the other hand, only wished to give her happiness, for his
own preference, as Travain had once pointed out, ran more to large
smelly flowers than Trueman females.

By sharing her
bed, he gained much unnecessary sleep, yet Talsy seemed happier
when he stayed the night. Her happiness was his only concern, for
he wanted to give her something in exchange for the death of her
son. Every day she asked about Travain, and he replied honestly
that the boy still slept, not telling her the gory details of his
transformation.

After two
weeks, the sloughing of dead flesh ceased, leaving a skeletal body
wasted by the death of half its substance. He had a gaunt,
hollow-eyed face with fleshless cheeks and a shrivelled neck, but
what was left was pure Mujar. Travain’s fleshy face and broad
features were gone with his Trueman part, leaving a frail,
delicately featured youth of Dancer’s age whose scalp bore a fuzz
of pitch-black hair. Chanter washed away the last vestiges of rot
that clung to his darkening golden skin. When he turned him over to
scrub his back, Chanter noted that the Mujar mark on the back of
his scalp was complete now. Once Travain was clean and swathed in
fresh sheets, Chanter finally invited Talsy to see her new son. She
detoured to inspect the Staff of Law, whose first line of writing
had dimmed. Satisfied, she followed him to the room, where he
unlocked the door and stood aside.

Talsy
approached the bed hesitantly, her eyes locked on the skeletal
youth who occupied it, finding no resemblance to her son. She sat
beside him and gathered up a fragile, bony hand, clasping it to her
cheek as tears escaped her brimming eyes.

“
Travain,” she sighed, her voice catching. “I’m so
sorry.”

“
He can’t hear you.”

“
I know.”

Talsy ran her
hands over his face, tracing the contours of his features that were
alien to her now. He had lobe-less Mujar ears, a high bridged,
narrow nose, thin lips and a cleft chin. Nothing remained of her
crossbreed son, his coarse features replaced by classical Mujar
beauty. She smiled, apparently entranced by his flawless features,
slightly more masculine than Dancer’s, more like his father, but
younger.

“
He’s still my son,” she whispered. “He’ll always be my son,
whether he knows it or not. He’s the child I dreamt of, the one I
knew I would bear, perfect in every way. He owes me the ultimate
Wish, for I gave him life, and my Wish will hold him to me, keep
him at my side as I could never bear to keep you, Chanter. He’ll
outlive me by many years, and when I’m dead, he’ll be
free.”

Chanter was
surprised by her possessive tone and air of satisfaction. “You’re
happy?”

“
Yes, he’s everything I dreamt of, all I ever
wanted.”

“
He’s not Travain anymore. He’s Drummer now.”

“
I know, a gentle Mujar like his father. My son, a pure Mujar.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “This is what I wanted. I was
afraid for him, but now I see that he’s changed for the
better.”

“
Do you think so little of your own people?”

“
They can’t compare to Mujar. As you told me long ago, your
gods took our form and perfected it to create you, and that’s what
he is, perfect. Who could want for more than a perfect
child?”

He was
uncertain, but nodded. “I’m glad.”

“
But he’s so thin. How will he regain his weight when he’s
still asleep?”

“
He eats. I’ve been feeding him a broth.”

She rose.
“Then I’ll care for him from now on. You’ve done your part, now
it’s my turn.”

Talsy hurried
down to the kitchens to begin her chore of feeding the sleeping
youngster. Chanter was puzzled by her acceptance of Drummer, but
then, he mused, he still did not understand Truemen emotions. From
then on, Talsy fed Drummer each day, spooning rich nourishing broth
into him, and slowly he gained weight.

Talsy was in
the kitchen cooking Drummer’s lunch when Danya came to the castle.
She had hardly seen the girl since the day Travain had collapsed,
and welcomed her with a smile. Danya had been understandably upset,
and Sheera kept her up to date on her ex-fiancé’s progress. Talsy
felt sorry for the girl, whose marriage was now impossible, and
invited her to sit as she stirred the broth. Danya settled at the
kitchen table and watched the First Chosen work. Talsy noticed her
pale, drawn look and set aside her spoon to sit beside her.

“
What’s wrong?”

Danya looked
down at her twisting hands. “Please don’t be cross,” she burst out.
“Mother’s already furious with me, and told me to come and tell
you. She says I’ve disgraced the family, and you, and
Travain...”

“
Why? What have you done?”

“
I… We... You said we should wait until after the laws came
back, to get married.”

“
Yes?”

“
Well we... we couldn’t wait... we love each other, and
Travain... He said it would be all right...” the girl stammered
into a painful silence, and Talsy sat back,
understanding.

“
You lay with him.”

Danya nodded,
bowing her head in shame.

“
And now you’re with child.”

Danya burst
into tears, clutching a damp hanky to her face, and Talsy stared
into space, stunned.

“
How could it survive the laws?” she asked, deep in thought.
“You’re sure?”

The girl
nodded miserably. “A month gone.”

Talsy went to
the kitchen door and bellowed Chanter’s name into the empty
passage. She knew he was somewhere in the castle, he had been here
since Travain had fallen sick. By the time she returned to the
table to comfort the distraught girl, the Mujar appeared. His brows
rose at the sight that greeted him, sniffing the burning broth.
Talsy took it off the fire, and he cocked his head.

“
Is there a problem?”

“
Danya’s with child,” she replied baldly. “Travain’s
child.”

“
Ah.” He studied the weeping girl. “And you want to know what
it will be like.”

“
Do you know?”

“
Well, since the laws are in place, it can’t be a
crossbreed.”

“
So? What will it be?” Talsy demanded.

“
Trueman, of course. I’ve told you that Mujar can die before
they’re born, before they become undying. Danya’s child will have
no Mujar in it, just as Travain no longer has Trueman
blood.”

“
You’re sure?”

He shrugged.
“Travain was only half Mujar, so the child would only be a quarter.
No, it will be Trueman, I’m sure.”

Talsy slumped
with relief, patting Danya’s hands. “There, it’ll be all right.
You’ll be fine.”

Danya’s gaze
darted between them, her expression becoming perplexed. “That
wasn’t what I was worried about!”

“
Oh?” Talsy shot Chanter a glare as he wandered over to the pot
and sampled her broth. “What’s the problem then?”

“
How will I live? Mother and father won’t support me. They
can’t afford to raise another child. Will Travain get
better?”

“
Well of course Travain will...” Talsy trailed off as Chanter
caught her eye and shook his head over the steaming spoonful of
broth. “He won’t?” she asked.

“
Drummer is Mujar.”

“
Oh. Of course.” She frowned at him as he tasted the broth and
pulled a face. “Well.” She turned back to Danya. “Don’t you know
any other boys?”

“
Who would wed a girl carrying another man’s child?”

“
Ah.” Talsy racked her brains for available men who might do
just that, and came up blank. “You don’t have to get
married.”

“
Who will support me and the baby?” Danya wailed.

“
Granny,” Chanter muttered, then ducked and ran as Talsy leapt
to her feet. She glared after him, and sank back into her chair. He
poked his head around the corner again, licked the spoon and
grinned. A reluctant smile tugged at her lips, and she fought it
and lost, bursting into giggles. Chanter, seeing that the storm was
over, sidled back into the kitchen and helped himself to more
broth.

“
How can I be a grandmother at the ripe old age of
twenty-three?” She giggled.

“
Well, you are,” he said. “Another burden for poor old
Kieran.”

Talsy sighed,
a little guilty about Kieran. With the barter system in the valley,
trade was a simple matter. Work for food, or grow your own. She and
Kieran had dug a vegetable garden in the castle grounds, and what
it produced went to feed them and buy meat. In addition, Kieran cut
wood and dug other people’s fields in order to buy clothes and
furnishings for the castle. Many people gave freely to the Prince
out of respect or fealty, but Kieran had supported Talsy through
her pregnancy and raising Travain. To now expect him to raise her
grandchild seemed a bit harsh, and she glowered at Chanter.

“
Perhaps it’s time granddad helped out.”

The Mujar
straightened. “Me?”

“
Yes, you. You can earn a living more easily than any of us,
with your powers.”

He held up his
hands. “You know I can’t ask for goods in return for favours.”

“
Breaking Mujar law, is it? It’s time you learnt to be more
Trueman, Chanter. Things have changed. The chosen don’t need to be
tested by your Mujar perversity anymore. That was designed to make
them hate you, to single out the really bad ones who would hurt you
out of envy and hate. There’s no reason for it now.”

He pondered
this, then came and sat opposite. “You’re right, of course, but I
don’t know if I can change. I can’t imagine going into the village
and setting up a stall, yelling, ‘Mujar powers for sale, get them
while they’re hot!’ then healing some old lady’s carbuncles for
three chickens, can you?”

Talsy threw
back her head and roared with laughter. She had forgotten how
joyful and mischievous Chanter could be. He had lost it all when
the Staff of Law had been broken, becoming quiet, solemn and
sorrowful. With the restoration of the laws, his humour had
returned, along with his boundless, infectious joy. He seemed to
reflect the moods of the world, and now that it was healed, he was
himself again, the teasing, childlike demigod she had first
met.