Echoes of the Great Song (18 page)

“I was safe among the stars. If you take me back I will turn to glass and dust.”

Squeezing shut his eyes he ignored her and sped on. A great roaring filled his ears. Massive talons ripped into his face, tearing out his left eye and slamming down into his chest. The lion pressed against him, its fangs ripping into his shoulder, snapping the bones.

Still he clung to its black mane.

I am dying, he thought. I cannot survive these wounds.

The blue planet roared up towards him and he felt his head strike the rug on the floor of his cabin.

Beside him Touchstone groaned. Forcing himself to his knees, he shook the tribesman.

Touchstone’s green eyes opened. “I sleep now,” he said, and fell forward.

Talaban dropped the medicine bag alongside the unconscious man, then rose and walked back to his desk. There were no marks upon his body, no wounds, no jagged tears. But his mind still reeled from the remembered pain.

That was a foolish thing to do, he told himself.

Chryssa came to his mind. Instinctively he sought to suppress the image, but then realized he no longer felt tormented by the loss of her. Tentatively he summoned the memories of her, their walks together in the high hills, with the spring flowers carpeting the hillsides, and her reluctance to tread on the blooms. She had picked her way carefully among them, her movements delicate and graceful. The memory was warm and very fine. At that moment Talaban finally understood what a fool he had been. By ruthlessly suppressing all thoughts of Chryssa he had buried the joy as well as the despair. You are an idiot, he told himself.

Opening the rear door he stepped out onto his private deck. The stars were bright in the night sky. Suddenly
a light appeared to the east. Talaban glanced up …

 … to see a second moon shining in the sky.

The sea beneath the ship began to churn and rise. Talaban was hurled to the left. Someone on the decks above him screamed.

Then the second moon vanished and the seas grew calmer. He stood for a moment, transfixed. Then a second surprise shook him.

Floating in the doorway of his cabin was a shimmering translucent figure, an old man wearing a buckskin shirt decorated with fingers of bone. His hair was white and braided with beads and his eyes were deep and knowing. “The evil is upon us, Talaban,” he said.

Then he vanished.

There was excitement in the cities when the two moons appeared, but panic followed when earth tremors cracked the east wall of Egaru and brought down two of the older buildings in Pagaru. The other three cities escaped serious damage, but twenty-six people were killed in Egaru when the buildings fell, with more than seventy others injured.

The Questor General ordered the troops out of their barracks to patrol the streets, and the Vagar authorities mobilized volunteers to dig through the debris seeking other survivors. One old woman and two small children were found alive.

Across the River Luan the main city of the Mud People had been badly struck. Their homes of mud-bricks
had collapsed, as had part of the palace. The Luan had burst its banks, bringing floods and a river of silt and mud that swept through the darkness dragging hundreds to their deaths.

In the Valley of the Stone Lion Questor Anu had ordered his 600 workers to move to the high ground one hour before the phenomenon. Not one man was injured when the earth split across the valley, briefly opening an abyss that belched smoke and dust into the night sky.

At the quarry three miles away a section of sandstone weighing more than twenty tons sheared away from the face crushing six workers and two whores. The men had remained behind against the orders of Questor Anu, having previously arranged a rendezvous with the women.

By dawn the land was again quiet, but an emergency meeting of the High Council was called to discuss the astronomical phenomenon and its meaning.

The Questor General did not head the gathering, but rode instead to the valley, seeking out Anu.

The newly young Questor was walking down the mountain, leading his workers in a long column, as Rael rode up.

“We need to talk, my friend,” said Rael, turning his horse and riding out across the grass. Anu walked over as the General dismounted.

“I sense you are annoyed with me,” he said.

“You could have been more forthright. You knew the event was to take place. Was it some kind of illusion?”

“No.”

Trailing the reins of his mount Rael walked to a rocky outcrop and sat down. Anu joined him. “Would you care to tell me why you kept this from me?”

“You would not have believed me, Rael. You would have thought me demented.”

“It would have been pleasant had you allowed me the right to make my own judgment. However, be that as it may, the event has now happened. What does it mean?”

“It will not be easy to explain,” said Anu, rubbing his slender hand through his close-cropped blue hair.

“I have time.”

Anu smiled. “We may have less time than you think. I want you to open your mind, Rael, and listen to what I have to say without any questions. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Our myths tell us that there were once gods who could journey through time, opening gateways to distant lands. You remember the Tale of the Twins? Bezak god of thunder and the twin brother he never knew he had?” Rael nodded. “That myth always baffled me,” continued Anu, “for you would have thought that Bezak’s mother would have known whether she had twins or not.”

“Spare me the myths, Anu.”

“Patience, Questor General. First you must peel back the skin before you find the fruit. The point I am making is that there are other realities, living alongside our own. As we faced the prospect of the Great Fall so did others on their own worlds. But at least one group accepted the conclusions of their wise men, and took action to save themselves. They used the entire power of their civilization in a bid to stave off the tidal wave. It worked—but not in the manner they intended. What they did was open a massive gateway between realities. They moved their capital city, and all the surrounding lands—shifted it to this reality. That is why, for a few heartbeats only, two moons hung in the sky. They are here now. Far across the western sea.

“Know this also, Rael. Thousands of people from our world died as the moons appeared—buried as the
city and its hills and mountains appeared, stamping down like a colossal hammer upon the wide plains.”

“You were quite right,” said Rael. “Had you told me this before I saw the two moons I would have thought you demented. Even now I can scarce believe it.”

“I saw the vision,” Anu told him. “I knew what was to come—and what is to come. Within two months a golden ship will sail into the port of Egaru. It will bring messengers from the west.”

“And these people are Avatars like us?”

“Not like us, Rael. Their power is no longer derived from the sun. It comes from ritual slaughter. They are a malevolent people.”

“How many of them survived?”

“Thousands.”

“And they have zhi-bows?”

“No, but they have developed other weapons equally deadly.”

Rael swore softly, then rose and walked towards his horse. Swiftly he mounted. “We few Avatars are clinging to life by our fingertips,” he said. “We are surrounded by enemies who wait like wolves for the kill.” Guiding his horse back to where Anu sat, he leaned on the pommel of his saddle. “I hope you have some good advice for me, Holy One,” he said.

“They must not be allowed to win,” said Anu. “They will plunge the world into darkness and evil.”

“Then find a way for me to defeat them,” said Rael.

“I will—once my pyramid is completed. Until then, Rael, you must use your wits.”

The first few days in Egaru had been difficult for Sofarita. She had visited the city four times with her parents and once with her husband. But each time they had stayed only one night, at a tavern called the Peace
Raven. To Sofarita’s dismay the tavern had been closed that spring and she knew nowhere else to stay.

It was close to dusk when she arrived and gave her name to the guards on the eastern gate. Had she known then that the tavern was closed she could have asked them for directions. Instead she found herself sitting upon her pony outside a once-familiar building, made cold and hostile by the boarded-up windows and the plank hammered across the main doors.

Heading deeper into the city she scanned the buildings for sign of a tavern, but saw none.

The streets grew more crowded and the little pony became anxious. Sofarita tried to soothe him, but he was unused to such noise and bustle. A dog darted under his legs and the pony reared. Sofarita clung to the saddle. A burly woman in flowing gowns of gaudy red, yellow and gold moved from the crowd, grabbing the pony’s bridle and stroking its long neck. “Steady now,” she said. “Steady.” Sofarita thanked her. “You can’t ride much further, child,” said the garishly clad woman. “No Vagar riders allowed in the city center. Where are you going?”

“I wish I knew. I’m looking for a place to stay.”

“Do you have coin?”

“Yes. A little.”

“Come then,” said the woman. Leading the pony by the bridle she turned into a narrow side street and through a stable yard into a lantern-lit square. Tables had been set out and candles flickered upon them. Some twenty people were already eating, and serving maids were carrying food and drink on wooden trays to other waiting customers. “Climb down, girl,” said the fat woman.

Sofarita slid from the saddle. Her back ached from the ride and the inside of her thighs felt stretched and
painful. “My nephew owns this place,” said the woman. “He’s a good lad, and you’ll not be troubled here. Where are you from?”

“Pacepta.” The woman looked blank. “It is a farming village close to the lands of the Erek-jhip-zhonad.”

“And you are seeking work in the city?”

“Yes.”

“Well first you will need a permit. Without one you will get no employment. But—and here’s the stupidity of it—if you have no employment you will be refused a permit.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No more do I. Avatar rules, child. They are not meant to be understood, merely followed.” A thickset young man appeared in the doorway. The woman called out a name and he strolled over.

“Take this pony to the stable,” she ordered him, “and then bring this young woman’s belongings inside.”

Leading Sofarita by the arm she made her way through the tables and into the main building. Here too there were diners, and the rich smell of roasting meats came wafting from the kitchens.

A tall young man spotted the pair, gave a wide grin, and came to meet them. He was wearing a white apron the front of which was stained by gravy. “Good evening, aunt,” he said. “Come to check on your investment?”

“You are too thin, Baj,” she scolded him. “Cooks should be sturdy men. It shows that their food is well worth the eating.” He chuckled and looked at Sofarita, his gaze frank and appraising. She felt momentarily discomfited.

“And who is your new girl, aunt?” he asked.

“She is not one of my girls. I found her riding the Avenue in search of lodging. She’s a country lass and quite unspoilt, as far as one can tell. So you treat her with respect,
young Baj, or I’ll want to know why. You can also sell her pony for her. She’ll have no use for it in Egaru and I should think the money will be useful.” She turned to Sofarita. “Do not accept less than ten silver pennies for it. You might get as much as fifteen.” She looked hard into the younger woman’s face. “How old are you? Sixteen?”

“Twenty-two,” said Sofarita.

“You look younger. But I guess you’ll have learned a little wisdom, and that’s always a help for a city woman. You look after her, Baj. I will be back to check on her.”

The fat woman patted Sofarita’s shoulder, then swung away and strode out of the tavern. Sofarita felt light-headed, as if a small storm had passed. “Is she always like that?” she asked Baj.

The young man gave a wide, good-natured grin. “Always,” he said. “Come, I will find you a room.” She followed him through a dimly lit corridor and on up a flight of rickety stairs lit by a single lantern on the first landing. Baj removed the lantern and held it ahead of him as he climbed into the gloom. “It will be brighter later,” he called back to her. “I’ll have more lanterns lit.”

The stairs ended at a gallery which circled the eating area below. Baj moved to a sturdy door, pressed the latch and opened it. Within was a small bedroom boasting a stone fireplace and a tiny window. Baj hung the lantern on a hook above the fireplace. “It is a little musty,” he said, “but you’ll not find better for a silver penny.”

“A month?” she asked him. His laughter was unforced.

“A day, pretty one. This is the city.”

“Every day?” Sofarita was appalled.

“Every single day. But you get three meals, and you’ll
be safe here. Believe me, that is a special rate. This room would normally earn me ten silvers a week.”

“I’ll take it,” she said.

“Wait here and make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring you some food.” After he had gone Sofarita sat down on the bed. The mattress was thin, but the blankets were thick and warm. For the first time the enormity of her action overwhelmed her. She had left a secure life in the village for the utter uncertainty of life in an environment she knew nothing about. Rising, she moved to the window and stared down on the diners below. Their clothes seemed rich and wonderful, far more graceful than the homespun garments she wore. And the colors of the dyes: rich greens, bright golds, reds and blues. One of the women below wore a dress of heavy silk, embroidered with white beads. And her hair was braided with bright wire that glinted in the lantern light.