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Authors: David Gemmell

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BOOK: Echoes of the Great Song
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Mejana arrived first, dressed in a voluminous blue robe. She nodded curtly at Rael, then sat down on his right without speaking. They sat in silence for several minutes before a servant announced the arrival of the king.

Ammon entered, dressed in a borrowed tunic of pearl-grey silk and silver-thonged sandals. His dark hair had been washed and perfumed and hung low to his shoulders, and his movements were languid and graceful. Moving around the table he drew up a seat close to Rael. “Charming apartments you offered me,” he said, “but I would appreciate the talents of a tailor.”

“I shall have one sent to you as soon as we are finished here,” said Rael. “But first let me welcome you to Egaru. It pleases me to have been helpful in your rescue.”

“No doubt there will be a price to pay,” said Ammon. His violet eyes flickered towards Mejana. “And you are, lady?”

Rael cut in swiftly. “Allow me to present the Lady Mejana, my First Councillor.”

Ammon bowed his head briefly. “Is this a new fashion among the Avatar, lady, to eschew blue hair?” he asked, mischievously.

“I am not an Avatar, sire.”

Ammon assumed an expression of mock surprise. “Indeed? Then how, one wonders, have you achieved such remarkable status?”

“As you are well aware,” said Rael, keeping his tone even, “Mejana is the head of the Pajists, an organization funded by yourself and your minister Anwar. However, that is of small consequence now. We are all facing a terrible enemy. What we must decide here is how best to combat them.”

“My army should be here within a few days,” said Ammon. “I would suggest we then defend the walls.”

“Certain assurances must first be given,” said Mejana.

“Such as?”

“Your promise that the soldiers will leave once the war is won.”

“I do not need to offer assurances, lady. This land was once under the direct rule of the Erek-jhip-zhonad. It will be again. It seems to me that it is I who should be making demands.”

The door opened and a servant moved across the wide room. He bowed to all three occupants then approached Rael. “A message, lord, from the Lady Sofarita.”

Rael took it, read it, then leaned back in his chair.

“Good news, I hope,” said Ammon.

Rael rose. “Your army was attacked in the Gen-el Pass. Three thousand dead, the rest scattered. Our conversation here is concluded.”

“I think the Source must have come to hate me,” said Rael. He had told her of the destruction of Ammon’s army, and of the approach of the invincible Almecs. Taking him by the hand she led him to the roof garden. A long table had been set there, covered by soft towels.
Beside it was a smaller table, upon which sat vials of scented oil.

“Take off your clothes, Rael,” she said.

“I have no time, Mirani.”

“Do as you are told, husband,” she said. Rael sighed and removed his tunic and leggings. She gestured for him to lie face down on the massage bed. Once he had done so she poured oil into her hands and gently began to knead the muscles of his shoulders. “They are like bands of iron,” she told him. He groaned as she probed more deeply. “You think the Source hates you? If that is true he has a strange way of showing it. You and I have known more than a century of love. Arrogant man!” Her fingers and thumbs eased the tension from his upper back then moved down along the spine. “The Source does not hate you, Rael. But he must hate what we have become. Slave masters and tyrants. All our plans, all our ambitions, are for one purpose only: to retain control, to dominate. We live by stealing the lives of others. If the Source did not hate that, then I would have no time for the Source. Now do you understand why I refuse to join the Council?” He lay very still as her hands worked their magic. She continued the massage, using her elbow to stretch the long muscles above the hips. Rael groaned again.

“Are you trying to heal me or kill me?” he said.

“I am trying to make you see the truth,” she told him. “Mejana is the bright light of dawn; Sofarita, the sunshine that follows rain. They are not evil, Rael, they are necessary. We were blessed with many children in the early days. All grew to adulthood. All died in the fall of the world. All except Chryssa.” He closed his eyes against the pain of remembrance. “She lived for but a few years, and gave us great joy. Think of how Mejana must have felt when her daughter, the light of her life, was crystal-drawn. Think of her pain, Rael.
Yes, she murdered Baliel, and ordered the deaths of others. Yes, she hates the Avatar. But her cause is just. She has dedicated her life to ensure that no mother will ever see her child crystal-drawn again. Do not hate her, Rael. Admire her. Respect her.

“And as for these reverses you suffer … Did you expect all wars to be so easily won? You are the Questor General. You will find a way to win. I would expect no less of you. Now turn over.”

He rolled onto his back. Mirani loosened the ties of her dress, and let it fall to the grass. Then she climbed to the table, straddling him.

He reached up and stroked her shoulders. “How did you get to be so hard?” he asked, with a smile.

“I married a soldier,” she said. And kissed him.

“The dangers are too great,” Questor Ro told Talaban. Sofarita sat silently on the grass, apparently lost in thought. The heavy scent of jasmine was in the air and the trio were sitting in the afternoon sunshine. Ro had not been pleased to see the tall officer arrive. He had noticed, with concealed dismay, the way Sofarita brightened with his presence.

“I think it is our only hope, Questor,” said Talaban.

Sofarita glanced up. “Tell me again what you learned from the hunchback. Every detail.”

Talaban smiled. “I could tell you his entire life, lady, but that would serve little purpose. The important fact is that the Crystal Queen did not intend to move a part of her continent to this world. What she was trying to do was, first, create a barrier over which the tidal wave would flow and then move her cities to a more clement part of their own planet. What she
actually
did was open a gateway between worlds. This, in itself, would be unimportant—save for the fact that she did not completely
close the gateway. Tremendous forces are at play here, straining to draw her land back to its own place. She is using massive amounts of power merely to hold her continent in place. That is why she needs so many deaths. And why she fears you, lady. You can drain away some of the power she needs. But not from here. Rael tells me that he no longer dares to approach you carrying crystals. He leaves them back at the Council Chamber. Even there your power is drawing on them, but less so. It is my belief that if we travel to the west, and approach the realm of the Crystal Queen, you will be able to weaken her. Perhaps then the Almecs will be sucked back through the gateway.”

“Only those still on the continent,” said Sofarita, absently.

“You think I am wrong, lady?”

“No, not wrong, merely ahead of yourself. My powers are not yet great enough to attack her directly. First I must help Rael destroy this invading force. Then we can think of an assault in the west. Now let us talk of more pleasant matters. You have a beautiful garden here, Ro.”

“Thank you,” he said. “It is not as fine as Viruk’s, but it gives me great pleasure. I have always enjoyed watching—”

“She is gone,” said Sofarita, suddenly. “Almeia was watching us, observing and listening. She will return. We do not have much time to plan our journey.”

“Then you think I am right?” asked Talaban.

“Yes, there is no other way. But as soon as we sail she will know what we plan. We will face many dangers.”

“She is not all-knowing,” insisted Ro. “She did not anticipate the Sunfire, and the destruction of her ships, nor the arrival of the
Serpent
to save Pagaru. Nor did she succeed in the ambush of Talaban at the pass.”

“She
knows,”
insisted Sofarita, “but she is limited by her need for others to carry out her commands. It is one matter to inform a general that a force is moving through a pass, quite another to direct the course of the subsequent battle. Her general, Cas-Coatl, communicates with her through the crystal he wears in his belt. She told him a small force was due in the Gen-el Pass. He sent two of his captains to oppose you. But they had no means of communicating with Almeia. Equally, Cas-Coatl was told of the Sunfire. He thought he could destroy it before the
Serpent
arrived. He was wrong. Trust me on this. She knows our every weakness. But our strength lies in the time it takes for her orders to be carried out. We will sail to the west. I shall choose a landing place, and tell no one my choice until we are almost upon it.”

“I shall come with you, Sofarita,” said Ro.

“You are not a warrior, my friend. What will you do there?”

“I have other talents,” said the little man. “And you will need them.”

“Then let it be so. We will sail at midnight.”

Viruk sat back in the open-topped carriage, his arm around the shoulders of the potter. “Over there,” he said, “is the Great Library.” Sadau had never seen such a building. He had thought the King’s Palace in Morak was astounding, but this made it look like a mud hut. The Library was massive, two 30-foot-tall statues supporting a colossal lintel stone at the front. Upon the lintel was a statue of a seated man, his hands outstretched. It was the tallest building Sadau had ever seen.

“Who is the king seated there?” he asked.

“The Fourth Avatar Prime,” said Viruk. “Or the Fifth. I really don’t remember. The building has over three hundred rooms.” A line of carriages waited outside
the building and scores of servants were carrying chests inside.

“What are they doing?” asked Sadau. “Moving treasure?”

“Of a kind,” said Viruk. “It is the strongest building in Egaru. Avatar wives and children are being moved here for safety. Now, would you like to see something really special?”

“Special?” queried Sadau. “It doesn’t involve killing, does it?”

Viruk smiled and patted the man’s back. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I didn’t deliver the head. Because I ran away and hid.”

“So, you think your death is so important to me that I would hire a carriage merely to transport you to your doom? Come now, potter. Had I wished you dead I would have done it before now.”

“Thank you, lord,” said Sadau, remembering how Viruk had reacted when the travellers had first come across the man Boru. Viruk had smiled at him, then drawn a dagger, leapt to the wagon, grabbed the man’s hair and wrenched back his head. The blade was poised above Boru’s throat when the king’s voice rang out.

“Do not kill him, Viruk, for he is mine!”

The Avatar had stood frozen for a moment, then he had sheathed his blade, sat down beside Boru and placed his arm over the man’s shoulder. Almost exactly in the manner he was doing now. “Good to see you again, Boru,” he said, with a wide smile. “How have you been?”

Sadau shivered at the memory. The Avatar was insane. And here he was riding with him to the gods only knew where.

The carriage continued along a wide avenue, then on up a tree-lined road rising to a wooded hilltop. There
were few houses here but the ones he could see were grand indeed. Viruk’s home—as Sadau had expected—was the finest in the hills.

The carriage drew up outside the marble-fronted entrance. Viruk climbed down, paid the driver, then led Sadau through into the rear of the building. Here the Avatar threw open the doors to the garden. “Behold!” he said.

Sadau gazed out over a landscape of exquisite beauty, of matching colors and sweet scents. There were flowers here he had never seen before. He stood open-mouthed. It was like a vision of paradise.

“Well?” said Viruk.

“Heaven cannot look this fine,” whispered Sadau. Ignoring the Avatar he walked out onto the paved pathway. A set of wide steps led up to the rockery. On each side of the steps were large terracotta pots filled with flowers.

Viruk strolled out alongside him. “This is my world,” he said. His voice had changed, and Sadau looked at him sharply. Gone was the menace, and even his grey eyes seemed softer.

A middle-aged servant came walking along the path. Over his shoulder was a sack made from straw. It was full of weeds. He grinned as he saw Viruk. “The marsh marigolds are thriving, lord,” he said. “You must see them. They are wonderful.”

Leaving Sadau standing Viruk and the servant disappeared along the pathway.

The potter kicked off his shoes and wandered around the rockery. The ground was luxuriously damp. Moving on, he came to a small stream. He sat on the grass and lowered his feet into the water. For the first time in many days he felt at peace. Stretching out on the grass he closed his eyes.

When he awoke it was growing dark. He sat up and
rubbed his eyes. Then he scrambled to his feet, gathered his shoes and made his way back to the house. A servant saw him. He was a tall thin man, long-nosed, with sharp small eyes.

“Can I help you?” he asked primly, staring with obvious distaste at Sadau’s travel-stained clothing.

“The Lord Viruk brought me to see his garden,” said Sadau. “We travelled together.” The servant seemed unimpressed. “We rescued the king.”

“Which king would that be, sir?”

“King Ammon. We brought him to Egaru. The Lord Viruk took me around the city in a carriage. I saw the Library.”

“Well, sir, the Lord Viruk has gone to the Council Chamber. And he did not mention that he had a guest.”

“I expect he forgot me,” said Sadau.

“Where are you staying, sir? I shall send for a carriage for you.”

“I don’t know. I sat in the Council Chamber for hours. Then the Lord Viruk brought me here.”

At that moment the gardener entered. “There you are,” he said. “I have been looking for you. My name is Kale.” He thrust out a large hand.

“Sadau,” said the potter.

“The Lord Viruk says you are to stay with me tonight. I have a small house about a mile away.”

Sadau started to speak, then hesitated. “What is it?” asked Kale.

“I … er … haven’t eaten anything in two days. Is there some food at your house?”

The gardener chuckled.

BOOK: Echoes of the Great Song
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