Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law (9 page)

"But how did
he do it?" She let her eyes wander over his face while he was
distracted.

He shrugged.
"Without the law to stop him, it's just a matter of willpower.
Truemen lost the ability to control the elements long ago, but this
world is rich in what you call magic. He probably stumbled across
it quite by accident."

"You mean
anyone can do it now? Could I?"

Chanter sat
up, looking so fierce that she recoiled. "No. Don't try. It's
forbidden."

"But you do
it," she protested.

"Mujar are
meant to do it. We're designed that way. We know how to control it,
and especially when not to use it. Not all Lowmen can do what he
did. He was different, perhaps already changed by the lack of law.
The gods will frown upon any who take power that they did not
bestow. Do you understand?"

Chanter
touched the Mujar mark on her brow, sending a tingle through her
blood. "I've given you all the power you need, to call the spirits
to your aid and walk unharmed amongst the beasts. What you cannot
deal with, I'll help you with, but never try to use magic.

I forbid it.
Obedience, remember?"

"Okay." She
hesitated, glad when he relaxed and lay back. "How did you snuff it
out?"

"I took
control of it. So long as I control Crayash, no one else may use it
unless I let them. I could have snuffed out the fire in his blood
if I had wanted to."

"That would
have killed him," she pointed out.

"Of course."
Her shocked silence made him look at her. "But I would never do
it."

"You're
forbidden."

"No, not
exactly." He paused, thinking. "I suppose I'm incapable of it.
Hypothetically I could, but morally I couldn't. Do you
understand?"

"Not
really."

He sighed. "I
don't know how else to explain it. Could you kill a helpless
babe?"

"No!"

"Exactly.
Physically you could, but mentally you couldn't. That's how it is
with me." Chanter closed his eyes, and she allowed a short silence
to fall before she changed the subject.

"You remember
what you said at the gate, about caring for me?"

"Mmm."

She paused,
gathering her courage. "Well, amongst Truemen, there's a ceremony
to celebrate the love between two people. It's called marriage.
It's a public declaration of their love, you see, so others know
that the two are bound to each other. They swear to stay together
forever, and to always love each other..."

"Is there a
point to this?" He opened one eye to look at her. "I know about
Trueman marriage."

"Yes, there's
a point." She bit her lip, wondering how he would react. "I want us
to get married."

"Us?" He
opened both eyes in surprise. "You mean you and I?"

She nodded,
and he chuckled, then sobered, shaking his head at her serious
expression. "What a strange creature you are."

Glad that he
had not reacted with horror or unreserved refusal, she hurried on,
"It's just a little ceremony. Everyone will be glad. I mean, for
the First Chosen to marry a Mujar is like the ultimate bonding
between Trueman and Mujar, reconciling all the differences of the
past..."

"Showing
people that Mujar are as good as them?"

"No." She saw
the trap and sidestepped it. "To show that Lowmen are worthy of
Mujar."

Chanter
laughed. "Very clever, my little clan. But what would you expect
from this union?"

"No more than
we have now. When you marked me, we became bound to each other,
just like a marriage. This would be the Trueman version, confirming
our bond in the eyes of my people."

He sat up,
crossed his legs and faced her, taking her hand. "It's a foolish
idea. One that I can't agree to. A Mujar bond is not like marriage,
and ultimately you would not be happy trapped in a union that could
never give you the things you want. A marriage between Trueman and
Mujar would be an empty promise, a barren contract that would gain
us nothing."

Talsy gnawed
her lip, unsure of his reaction to the idea to which Kieran had
been so averse. Would he also rail against it? Whipping up her
flagging courage, she met his eyes. "It doesn't have to be barren.
Now that there are no laws, we could have children."

For a moment
his expression froze, then he looked down. She held her breath,
dreading an angry outburst, shocked refusal, or disgusted aversion,
but hoping for acceptance. The hand that held hers tightened, and
his shoulders shook. She bent to peer at his face, which the glossy
hair that had fallen over it hid. Chanter raised his head, his eyes
sparkling, and let loose the laughter he had been trying to hide.
He released her hand and fell backwards in paroxysms of mirth.
Peals of laughter burst from him as he convulsed with hilarity.
Fortunately, the goatherd whose hut they sat atop was always out
all day tending his flock, otherwise the laughter coming from above
might have startled him. Chanter seemed in danger of rolling off
the roof, he laughed so hard. Talsy strived to marshal her confused
emotions, a mixture of relief that he had not been angry and anger
at his mirth.

"It's because
you're so damned perfect, isn't it?" she asked. "No Mujar would
sully his blood by mixing it with a mere Lowman's!"

Chanter
sobered and sat up, shaking his head. "No."

"Our children
would be the answer to the problems of this world. Mujar blood
would improve the Trueman race."

"Listen to
me." He gazed at her earnestly. "It's impossible, okay? Not because
I think Mujar are too good to mix their blood, or that Truemen are
too bad. We're just too different. We're almost complete opposites.
We don't think alike, breed alike, live alike, nor even die the
same way. We have nothing in common."

"So what would
a child of our two races be like? A monster?"

"No." He
pondered. "I don't know, actually. You're right, without the laws,
crossbreeding would be possible. But as to the results, I cannot
speculate." He ran a hand through his hair. "Just forget it okay?
It's a good joke, nothing more." He chuckled. "You do come up with
the most outrageous ideas."

Rising to his
feet, he stretched and turned to leave. "I must go and speak to
Kieran." He wagged a finger at her. "Forget it, okay? The answer is
no. No marriage, no children, not ever."

Talsy frowned
as he jumped down and strode away along the road into the village.
A determined voice deep within her refuted his words with steely
resolution. She would prove him and Kieran wrong, somehow. She
would bring into the world the most beautiful child ever conceived,
and it would be Chanter's.

Chanter mulled
over Talsy's words as he walked through the village. A crazy,
impossible Lowman notion, conceiving a child between two races so
utterly different that normally they could never breed. Only she
could come up with such an irresponsible idea. Like mingling fire
and ice, which would give you hot water, he supposed, or steam.
Like mixing Life and Death. He shuddered at the thought of the
monstrosity that grew in the blasted forest. A Mujar child would
probably kill her, his gestation being so different from a
Lowman's.

Remembering
his offspring, he stopped to gaze in the direction of the distant,
abandoned continent where the Mujar child would no doubt perish in
the chaos. He shrugged and walked on. Mujar young could be killed
before they were born, a fact that made their whereabouts a
carefully kept secret. It took a Mujar two years to emerge from the
flower that nurtured him, and then he did so fully formed, a little
smaller than an adult. Young Mujar needed no parents to raise them,
the world was their cradle and teacher.

Chanter found
Kieran helping two farmers to cut a pile of wood, and wandered over
to the Prince. "Kieran, I must speak to you."

Kieran
straightened in surprise, and the farmers doffed their caps as he
nodded and picked up the tunic he had removed to work, approaching
Chanter.

The Mujar
turned away. "Bring the sword."

Jesher looked
around at the expectant faces of the group of senior warriors he
had assembled. The old headman, Larik, had silver hair that set him
apart as the oldest man in the tribe. His elderly stallion, Odel,
had ruled the herd for ten years before Nort had challenged and
beaten him. Now Odel ruled the bachelor herd, and would until he
died. The old headman still had standing in the tribe, commanded
respect and gave counsel to the young. Jesher glanced at his
family, who sat behind the warriors, and dropped his bombshell.

"The strange
man is Mujar."

Everyone
gasped except Larik, who nodded. "I thought so."

"I didn't
believe it, for he's a cripple. No Mujar would remain a
cripple."

"Perhaps he
has his reasons," Brin stated.

"He must. From
now on, he'll be treated with the respect that he deserves, and any
who don't respect him will be cast out."

Heads nodded
around the crowded tent.

"To think,"
Jesher muttered, "I almost attacked him when he took the Stone.
I'll make reparation for my temerity, be assured. He's brought more
than four hundred horses for us to tend and bring back to health. I
doubt any of them will choose from amongst us, but that does not
matter. The mares will breed with Nort, and the... geldings will
run with the bachelor herd. They have earned a quiet life after all
they have suffered."

"How will you
make reparation to the Mujar?" Larik enquired.

"They plan to
go on a quest." Jesher glanced at Shan. "The stone Shan found is
part of a sacred staff, and they're going to find the rest of it.
We will offer them horses to ride, and our steeds will find those
willing to bear unchosen riders. This is a new situation, and the
presence of the Mujar will make them willing. The girl, Talsy,
bears the Stone mark, yet she has not been chosen by a horse. I
will choose four warriors from amongst you to go with them, to help
and guard them."

"I'll go,"
Brin volunteered.

Jesher nodded.
"I agree. You will be in charge, as a senior warrior. The others
will be Taff, Mita, and Tron."

"Papa, let me
go too!" Shan burst out, earning a cuff from his mother and a glare
from the headman.

"You're too
young, boy. It will be dangerous, and you're not yet a
warrior."

"I am! I have
a horse, I have the mark!"

"A horse you
didn't want," Jesher reminded him.

"I want him
now," Shan protested.

"He's also too
young."

Shan's eyes
shimmered with tears. "I found the stone! I carried it here! I have
earned the right!"

Jesher frowned
at the boy, unable to refute the truth of this, and Larik murmured,
"Let the boy go, Jesher. What harm can come to him in the company
of a Mujar?"

"He's too
young. The Mujar will be concerned only with protecting the girl,
no one else. Kieran has the magical sword, and my warriors have
their skills, which he lacks."

"I'll look
after him," Brin offered.

The headman
turned his glare on the warrior. "You may not survive yourself.
From what they said, this world is falling into chaos. It will be
more dangerous out there than you think, no place for a boy."

"If they fail
to find the pieces of the staff, all will perish, so what does it
matter?" Larik pointed out.

"Thorn found
the stone, Papa. He will find the other pieces too!" Shan
cried.

Jesher sighed,
glancing around at the stony-faced warriors, his eyes skittering
away from Shella's hard stare.

"To deny the
boy is cruel," a senior warrior, Mejan, chimed in.

"We should ask
the horses," Larik stated. "If they say the boy should go, then he
should."

"Which
horses?" Jesher demanded.

"Mishal, Nort,
and Thorn."

The headman
stared at the floor, unable to look at his wife. "Very well, we'll
let the decision be theirs."

Shella snorted
and left the tent, her disapproval hanging in the air behind her.
Shan bounced with eagerness, certain that the horses would want him
to go, especially Thorn. Jesher gazed at his son, wishing that he
had sired more than one.

Kieran emerged
from his hut with the Starsword, strapping it on as he loped after
the Mujar, who was already halfway to the grove of trees that
flanked one side of the lake at the far end of the valley. Dread
nibbled at him. Did Chanter intend to destroy the weapon, as he
claimed he should have done before the staff was broken? Kieran had
overheard that comment when he had been climbing up the scree to
the rock where Chanter sat with Talsy.

Chanter must
not destroy the sword. It would be important on the quest to find
the rest of the staff. How could he prevent the Mujar from doing so
if he chose? One thing he had learnt during his time with Chanter
was that no one went against the Mujar and won. The only person who
seemed to be able to influence him was Talsy, and he had no time to
find her. After the humble pie he had eaten at the hands of the
mage Chanter had defeated so easily, the Prince was not so
confident any longer.

The Mujar
vanished amongst the trees ahead, and Kieran loped after him, not
wishing to keep him waiting. His earlier impatience and frustration
with Chanter now seemed disrespectful and childish. Striding
through the trees, he came across the Mujar sitting on a mossy rock
in a glade, and paused to take in the scene. Sunlight filtered
through the trees to gild the unman, who sat motionless, as much a
part of the forest as the rock on which he and the trees around
him. A Trueman would have looked out of place, but the Mujar looked
as natural in this setting as a deer.

Chanter looked
up, and the words Kieran had rehearsed on the way here burst from
him. "If you've decided to destroy the sword, I don't agree. We'll
need it on the quest for the staff. It's too important. The damage
has been done now, let it be used for good."