Echoes of the Great Song

by David Gemmell

  Anu’s prediction had been correct, and he had become the Holy One. But his decision to age and die was obscene. No Avatar would even consider such a course. The full Council of Questors voted to place him under house arrest in order to prevent Vagars from witnessing the grotesque deterioration of a supreme being. The five cities contained more than 200,000 Vagars. They were controlled by a mere 570 Avatars. The Questors feared that if Anu was seen to age like any mortal the Vagars would cease to hold them in such awe. Avatar soldiers now guarded the exits, and all of Anu’s Vagar servants had been taken away.

  He was attended now by three Avatar acolytes, and had not been in contact with any on the Council since that day thirty years ago.

  Now he requested the presence of Rael.

  The Questor General left his office and moved through to his apartments. A Vagar servant bowed as he entered, and informed him that the Lady Mirani was in the roof garden. Rael climbed the circular stair and emerged into the sunshine. The garden had been designed by Viruk twenty years before, and the air was heavy with the scent of roses and honeysuckle. Mirani was sitting in the shade of an arched trellis, that was adorned by a climbing multi-colored rose of yellow, red and white. Rael paused and took in a deep breath. Even after a hundred years he found Mirani’s beauty intoxicating. Her long, fair hair, dyed blue at the temples, was tied back now with a white ribbon, and she was leaning forward, paintbrush in hand, adding delicate touches to a newly shaped pottery vase. A touch of blue paint had marked the skin of her cheek. Rael felt the burden of responsibility lift from him. He was a man again. Sensing his presence, she turned and smiled.

  “What do you think?” she asked him, pointing to the vase.

  “It is beautiful,” he said.

  “You haven’t looked at it.” Moving across the garden he knelt by her side. The vase was tall and slim necked, and Mirani had painted exquisite female figures all around it. They were running and laughing. “The Maidens of Contar,” she explained. “You remember the myth? They heard the enchanted music of Varabidis, and left their homes to seek him on the mountain.”

  “As I said, it is beautiful. But where is Varabidis? Should he not be present?”

  “They did not want him, they wanted his music.” Mirani leaned back. “What brings you home so early?”

  He told her about the summons from Anu. “Perhaps the Holy One has repented of his decision to die and wishes to join the Council once more,” he concluded.

  “I do not think so,” said Mirani. “Anu is not a fickle man.”

  “I do not wish to see him withered and ancient. The thought is obscene.”

  Mirani shook her head. “You see old people all the time, Rael. If Anu has called for you then the matter is of importance. As I said, he is not fickle, and he certainly is not frivolous. Perhaps he has experienced another vision. You must go to him.”

  “I know.” Taking a cloth he wiped the blue smear from her cheek. “You should return to the Council,” he said. “You are ten times wiser than Caprishan.”

  “I no longer have any interest in politics.”

  “That is something I have never understood.”

  She smiled. “The moment you do you will walk away as I did.”

  “You think what I do has no merit?”

  “Not at all. Society will always need to be governed. But here is a question for you, my dear. What does a normal man desire?”

  “A family, a home, children. Enough food on the table. Health and a little wealth,” he said.

  “Exactly. And when a man has these things, but desires to control—as a councillor—the lives of others, that makes him abnormal. A man who seeks to rule everyone must necessarily be extremely abnormal. It could be argued that such a desire to rule should disqualify any applicant.”

  Rael laughed. “In that case you are the perfect councillor, since you have no desire to be one.”

  Her smile faded. “Perhaps. But I served for sixty years, Rael, and I saw too much. Now go and see Anu. Give him my love.”

  • • •

  On his favorite gray gelding the Questor General rode through the Park of the West, and up over the clifftops. There was a cool breeze coming from the sea, and the smell of salt was strong in the air. He rode down through the small wood and onto the paved road that led down to the docks. Then he cut to the right, guiding the gray up along the unpaved trail until he reached the wrought-iron gates of Anu’s home. Two Avatar soldiers saluted as he dismounted. Leaving his horse with them he strolled through the grounds and was met by the same acolyte who had brought the message. This man, his head shaved, but his beard dyed blue, led him through the house and up to a small library on the first floor. Heavy curtains were drawn across the windows, shutting out all natural light, and the room was lit by three glowing lanterns. Anu was sitting in a deep leather chair, an open scroll upon his lap. He was asleep, but woke as the acolyte gently touched his shoulder. “Ah, Rael,” said the old man, running his bony fingers through his white, shoulder-length hair. “Welcome to my home.”

  Rael found Anu’s appearance sickening. The old man’s skin was dry and flaking, like a lizard left in the sun. His neck scrawny, fleshless and withered. Rael kept his disgust from his face and sat down opposite the frail old man. “Why are you putting yourself through this?” asked Rael.

  The ancient face broke into a smile. “Why are you not?” he asked.

  Rael shook his head. There was no point in arguing. That had all been done years ago. “Shall I draw back the curtains? It is a glorious day.”

  “No, Rael. I like the gloom.” He settled back and closed his eyes again.

  “You wished to see me,” said Rael, holding his temper.

  Anu’s eyes snapped open. “I am sorry. One of the penalties of age, you know. Ah, of course, you don’t know. Anyway … You have four full chests, Rael. They will be the last. A volcanic eruption has destroyed the line.”

  “Four will give us a few years. Much may happen in that time.”

  “Indeed it certainly will.” The old man’s eyes closed and, for a moment, Rael thought him to be sleeping. Then he spoke again. “We lose much, Rael, by being ever-young.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Flexibility. Understanding. Perspective. The physical frailties are many, but they are assuaged by a wealth of insights. All living things in nature grow, die and are reborn. Even the earth, as we have so painfully witnessed. Not so the Avatar. We have forgotten how to grow, Rael. To adapt and change. We are what we were a thousand years ago. Perhaps not even that. A thousand years ago the Avatar Prime and I designed the White Pyramid. It was a wonder, a work of genius from among a gifted people. What new inventions can we boast from the last two hundred years? What strides have we made? We are frozen in time, Rael, and we exist as merely echoes of a great song.”

  “All that you say may be correct, though I doubt it,” said Rael, “but do you think that by aging and dying we would improve? And even if that were true, how many would accept it? I, for one, would not. I like being young and strong.”

  “The crystals were the blessing that became a curse,” said Anu sadly. “But I have learned much in these last years.” The old man smiled. “Once I stopped using the crystals my visions became sharper. I see much now that was hidden from me.”

  “Is that why you wished to see me?”

  “In part, Rael. Would you fetch me some water?” The Questor General rose and moved to a slender table crafted from bronze in the shape of a bush with golden leaves. Upon the bronze leaves lay a long, rectangular slab of blue-stained glass and upon this a clay pitcher and two golden goblets.

  Rael chuckled. “The gold looks incongruous against the clay,” he said. “I shall send you a more suitable pitcher.”

  “It is suitable,” said Anu, accepting a goblet of water with a trembling hand. “It reminds me that no matter how great our wealth the source of all life comes from the humble earth.”

  “Always the teacher,” said Rael ami
ably, seating himself once more opposite the old man.

  “It is my nature,” agreed Anu.

  “And you are a great teacher, my old friend. Without you the empire would have died. We should have listened to your teachings.”

  “You still should, Rael. But that is a debate for another day. I want you to give me one of the chests.”

  The request surprised Rael. “For what purpose?”

  “I shall build a new pyramid, to almost the same specifications as that of the Avatar Prime.”

  Rael remained silent. The ramifications of the offer were enormous. Such a pyramid would ensure the rule of the Avatars for the next thousand years. “How can you do this? The Music is gone. How will you fashion twenty-ton blocks and move them? And if you find a way to do that, how will you raise them into place? It is impossible.”

  “The Music is not lost, Rael,” the old man told him. The words were spoken simply and without arrogance.

  “Show me!” whispered the General. From the pocket of his cavernous gown Anu drew forth a small flute. Pushing himself to his feet he stood before Rael. “Drop to your knees and extend your right hand,” he told him. Rael did so. Anu lifted the flute to his lips and began to blow a series of notes, soft as an autumn wind through the grass, light as down, sweet as the first bird call of spring. For a moment only, Rael became lost in the music, and then he saw Anu step onto his outstretched hand. He tensed, expecting the old man’s foot to stamp on his fingers, driving them into the floor. Instead his hand did not move, and the ancient Questor levered himself up to balance on Rael’s palm. The music died away.

  “Rise, Rael,” said Questor Anu. “Lift me to the ceiling.”

  Rael rose easily, raising his arm as if it carried no more than a feather. He could feel no weight at all from the old man. “Now bring me down,” said Anu. “Lower me to my chair.”

  Rael lowered his hand, then took hold of Anu’s bony arm and watched him float gently into the wide armchair.

  “Why did you not tell us?” asked Rael.

  “What purpose would it have achieved? I wanted other Avatars to pursue the ancient knowledge—to master it. To prove to me there was a future for our race. But none have come forward. Save perhaps Ro, and he is too rooted in the past to stretch his hand towards the future.”

  “But you could have taught us!” said Rael, torn between feelings of awe and exasperation. “These have been difficult years for us. With your powers we could have achieved so much more.”

  Anu shook his head. “The answers were always there, in the mathematics. But you still do not grasp what I am saying, Rael. My mental powers have increased since I stopped using the crystals. It is mortality itself that gives us the desire to learn, to adapt, to forge new paths into the future. Without that we become locked in place, desiring only more of the same. Now, will you grant me a chest?”

  “I will. But why have you changed your mind? What vision have you experienced?”

  “Ask me again when two moons appear in the night sky.”

  Rael took that to mean Anu was unwilling to discuss his reasons. He considered the offer, and found that his mouth was dry. What the Holy One was suggesting was almost frightening. For it meant the rebirth of hope, and the consequent fear of despair.

  “How long will it take?” he asked, knowing the answer would be in decades, and wondering how they could survive in the meantime.

  “Six months.”

  The answer was a shock. Rael sighed. Was the old man senile after all? “You taught me mathematics, Anu. Now, if I remember correctly there were a million blocks in the White Pyramid …”

  “One million, one hundred and seventy thousand,” the old man corrected him.

  “Very well. If I divide that number by the number of days in a year I find you will need to quarry, cut, move and place two thousand nine hundred blocks a day—blocks weighing more than thirty tons.”

  “Three thousand four hundred and twenty-two,” said Anu. “That is why I need the chest.”

  “With a hundred chests you could not do it!” snapped Rael. “You are limited by the speed of your workmen.”

  “Not at all,” said Anu softly. “I am limited only by time. How long have you been here, Rael?”

  “Half an hour, perhaps a few minutes longer. Why?”

  “You arrived, as requested, at noon. Now you may draw the curtains.”

  Rael strode across the room and dragged back the heavy velvet cloth. Beyond the window it was night, the stars bright in the sky. Rael blinked, stared at the pale moon, then swung back to the old man. “An illusion?” he asked.

  “No. You have been here for ten hours. Time is also part of the Music, Rael. You are quite correct. Even by dismantling the four failed pyramids, and using some of their blocks it would take six hundred skilled workers more than twenty years to complete. We do not have twenty years. We have—at best—six months. I shall use the Music to make time dance for me. Here in this room I have slowed time. In the Valley of the Stone Lion I shall—with the power of the chest—increase it twentyfold.”

  “But you have done this here without crystals? It is hard to believe.”

  “The crystals merely enhance our powers. The true strength comes from within. That is the knowledge we have lost.” He paused, and fixed Rael with a searching gaze. “Now, there is something else you will need to consider, Questor General—and it is a revolutionary thought.”

  “And that is?”

  “My six hundred workers.”

  “What about them?”

  “They will age at twenty times the normal rate. Many of them would not see out the year.”

  “I will find you more.”

  Anu shook his head. “You do not understand, Rael. The timing is vital. Six months. Not a day more. I cannot achieve this if my workforce is aging and dying around me. Every day that passes, within the Dance, they will become more skillful, increasing the speed of the project. This too has been used in my calculations. As has the slowing of the Dance every five of your days to allow three months’ supplies to be brought through to us.”

  Realization struck Rael. “You think to use crystals on Vagars? By Heavens, man, the Council will never allow it.”

  “Then don’t tell them.”

  “I have no choice.”

  “It is a military decision, Rael. And that means it is yours to make alone.”

  “The pyramid is not a weapon, nor are we under attack.”

  “I do not lie, Rael. It is a military decision. As to the Vagars, they will not know they are crystal-fed. All they will be told is that we are using great magic. The men I hire will be told a part of the truth—that twenty years will pass in the Valley of the Stone Lion, while only two seasons will touch the world beyond. I will also promise them that, because of the magic, they will not age. And each man will receive a wage totalling thirty years of service. Each of them will be rich when he returns.”

  “You are asking for a lot of trust,” said Rael. “Both from me—and from the men who will toil for twenty years.”

  “Much could go wrong,” admitted the old man. “But I must not fail, my friend. You have no idea how important this is.”

  “I am sure you will tell me in your own good time, my friend,” said Rael, rising to leave. “By the way, Mirani sends her love.”

  Anu relaxed and smiled. “She is a good woman—too good for you, I fear.”

  “Who could disagree,” replied Rael, returning the smile. “She will not return to the Council. She spends her time now crafting pots and painting them.”

  “There will still be potters when we are a fading memory,” said Anu.

  Chapter Nine

  And he was called Old One Young, for he was born ancient and grew younger with the seasons. His wisdom was very great, for the hand of the All Father rested upon his shoulder. He knew the numbers of the stars, and the circle of the world. No secret could be hidden from Old One Young. Not a secret of the past, nor a secret of the soon to be. One
day he began to weep, and the tears from his eyes made a terrible rain that flooded the land. The other gods came to him and asked him the reason for his tears. But he would not tell them.

  From the Noon Song of the Anajo

  The following morning Anu, with the aid of his favorite acolyte Shevan, made his slow way up three flights of stairs to the tower rooms. High arched windows had been set into the four walls, and Anu moved to the eastern window. Sunlight was glittering on the estuary of the Luan River, and from here, on the opposite coast, he could see the marble towers of Pagaru.

  “Do you regret your decision, sir?” Shevan asked him.

  “I regret many things,” said Anu, his gaze scanning the city on the opposite shore. “Built too fast,” he said softly.

  “What was too fast, sir?” asked Shevan.

  “Pagaru was the foothold city, the fortress. When we first came here six hundred years ago the tribes were all at war and we needed to build fast, before they perceived the threat we posed. The walls were in place within two weeks. Too fast. They are not as strong as they might be, nor as aesthetically pleasing. A hundred years later we built Egaru. Far stronger. The others followed, strung out like pearls along the shoreline. Boria was my favorite city for a long time. Many artists and poets lived there, gentle men. Aye, and philosophers. I spent many a happy evening sitting upon the white beach debating the meaning of life. Have you been to Boria?”

  “Of course, sir. I was trained there.”

  “Ah yes. I had forgotten. Did you know it was the last city built with the Music?”

  “Yes, sir. You have told me. Many times.”

  “I have never visited Pejkan and Caval. I am told they are ugly and squalid.”

  “They are merchant cities, sir, and few Avatars live there. But, yes, they are not attractive.”

  Moving to the western window Anu squinted against the setting sun, which turned the sea to blood. “That is where the future lies, Shevan,” he said. “The unknown hinterlands of the western continent. We charted the coastlines, but never ventured far inland. It was a mistake, I fear.” He sighed. “We have made so many mistakes.”