Echoes of the Great Song

by David Gemmell

  “Did you walk with him to the door?” asked Viruk.

  “No, lord. I fell asleep.”

  Viruk asked the man’s name and his address and then allowed him to leave. “I trust,” said Mejana, “you will not tell the noble Questor that we spoke of him. He is a very good client, and honors us with his presence.”

  “I doubt he will be honoring you again,” said Viruk. “Who would know of his trysts here?”

  “He visits on the same two days every week, lord. I know this, as do all my entertainers. He has a carriage waiting for him at the end of the Avenue, a walk of perhaps a half-mile. His driver would know, as would any who saw him leave. Has something happened to him?”

  “I expect so,” said Viruk cheerfully. “He was a windbag and a blowhard. He will not be missed. Even so, the man was an Avatar, and therefore the investigation will continue. By the way, how much did he pay for his pleasures?”

  “Five gold pieces, lord.”

  “You must miss him greatly.”

  “I do not like to lose customers. I thought he had moved to one of the other cities. I know he has a house in Boria. Perhaps he has gone there.”

  “No one has seen him since he came to your brothel. Did you speak to him on that last night?”

  “Yes, lord.”

  “How did he seem?”

  “He was always happy here, lord. I sincerely hope he will be again.”

  Viruk stared at her for a moment. She felt the intensity of his pale gaze and found that her heart was beating in panic. “I shall question the boy he slept with tomorrow. Send him to the Officers’ Building on Military Square. Have him ask for me.”

  “I will, lord. But I promise you he is a good lad and would not wish any harm on the Questor. He is very fond of him.”

  “Then he has nothing to fear.”

  The following day the boy was crystal-drawn to death.

  Mejana groaned as the pain flared once more. She could not move now and her eyelids were growing heavy. Death was whispering to her like a trusted lover.

  On the news that the boy was dead she had walked to the warehouse and, with the aid of two strong men, had up-ended Baliel into a barrel of salt water. She had stood and watched as his legs thrashed around, the bubbles rising from his tortured lungs. The body was later thrown from the wharf.

  She heard movement in the garden. A hand touched her. Heat roared through her chest and she cried out.

  “Be still, Mejana, and let me heal you.”

  She opened her eyes and saw the village girl she had taken to the inn. “I am beyond healing,” she said.

  The girl smiled. “I do not think so.”

  Chapter Twenty

  In her private apartments Mejana stripped off her blood-soaked clothing and stood naked before a full-length mirror. There was no sign of a wound upon her pale flesh. Not even a mark to show where the knife blade had punctured the skin. Tidy, as always, Mejana carried the stained clothes to a laundry basket and dropped them inside. Then she dressed in another voluminous gown, this one of pale green linen. Returning to her outer rooms she saw the girl sitting by the window, looking out over the bay.

  Mejana paused and stared at her. Outwardly she looked no different to the naive villager she had found wandering the city, the shy girl she had taken to Baj. But something about her had changed. There was a radiance to her features and a new confidence in her movements.

  “How are you feeling?” asked Sofarita.

  “Better than I expected. How did you master the Avatar crystals?”

  “I have no crystals, Mejana. The power is mine alone.”

  “I had no sense of it when I last met you,” said the older woman, moving to a large chair and sitting opposite the girl.

  “It had not manifested itself at that time. Now it has. And all is changed.”

  “And now you serve the Avatar?”

  “No. I serve no one.”

  “Yet you dwell with Questor Ro and you saved his life.”

  “Indeed I did—and would do so again. Just as I saved yours.”

  “Mine is worth saving,” said Mejana. “I have a mission and a purpose. To free my people from Avatar tyranny.”

  Sofarita shook her head. “No, you desire only revenge for the death of your daughter. But your motives are not important now.”

  “What is important, then?” asked Mejana.

  “The defeat of the Almecs. They are a cruel and malevolent people, ruled by a goddess of crystal. She is fed by blood, by ritual sacrifice. If they succeed here then the Vagars and all the people under their dominion will be merely food for the goddess.”

  “My daughter was food for the Avatar. She fed their crystals with her life.”

  “I am not defending the Avatar, Mejana. Their day is almost gone. However, I want you to trust me. I want you to understand how terrible is this new enemy.”

  “What are you asking of me?” snapped Mejana.

  “The Almecs have landed armies upon the coast and they are sailing to attack the Mud People at Morak. More ships are arriving daily along the coastlines. Soon there will be thousands of Almec warriors. It is vital that we coordinate our efforts. You have contacts with Ammon and the tribes. Your grandson Pendar is close to the Patiakes. He made a friend of their king.”

  “Until Viruk slew him,” Mejana pointed out.

  “That is past. Viruk slew Judon, you killed Baliel, and ordered the deaths of others. You did not listen as Baliel cried for mercy. You held his legs as he thrashed around in the barrel.”

  “How do you know these things?” whispered Mejana.

  “There are no secrets I cannot find,” Sofarita told her. “But, as I said, this is all in the past. In two hours I shall meet with Questor General Rael. You will be there. Together you will plan the campaign against the Almecs.”

  Mejana laughed. “Rael will have me arrested and crystal-drawn.”

  “He may,” agreed Sofarita. “But that is a risk you will take.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because if the Almecs are comprehensively defeated you will be closer to your goal. Freedom for the Vagars. The coming battles will exhaust the Avatar. At that point change will be inevitable.”

  “You ask a lot of me. So tell me, what do you gain from all of this?”

  “I will merely die,” said Sofarita. “Now take my hand, and I shall show you the nature of the enemy.”

  Rael had never been more angry. He struggled to speak through his rage. “How dare you!” he stormed. “How dare you bring this murderess into my company?”

  Mejana sat silently, watching the Questor General. Niclin stood back, his eyes hooded, his emotions masked. Questor Ro stood in the archway to the garden, his eyes on the calm, tranquil figure of Sofarita, seated on a low couch. Rael loomed above her, his face ashen. “I would sooner die than deal with such … such scum!”

  “Sit down, Rael,” said Sofarita, softly. “Try to put aside your rage and listen to your intellect.”

  “I will not sit. I will not remain in this house. My guards are outside and I will have them take this murderess to her death.”

  “As you took her daughter and countless thousand others,” said Sofarita, her voice even. “As you took her grandchild and drew its tiny life into your crystals. How can you talk of murder when you live only by sucking the life from others? By all that is holy, Rael, you should be long dead. You breathe only because you have stolen life from others.”

  “I do not need to listen to this,” stormed Rael. “And I do not need some Vagar whore to tell me what is right. If her daughter was sentenced it was according to the law.”

  “Now there is an interesting concept,” said Sofarita. “If a few Avatars decide that planting a flower in the earth is wrong, then that becomes the law. And Vagars will die for it. You speak of the law as if it flows from the Source. What right have you to make the laws?”

  “The right of conquest!” he replied, instantly.

  “Exactly. And now Meja
na and her people are ready to conquer you. This will give her the right to make the laws. Perhaps she will decide that having blue hair is a capital crime. Then all Avatars will be law-breakers. Enough of this, Rael, it is beneath you. Rage is no basis on which to build cooperation.”

  Rael took a deep breath. “What is it you are proposing?” he asked.

  “A chance for survival. The tribes will not gather under Avatar leadership. They will fight singly, and they will be overwhelmed. You must give way. The Avatars will be the spear point, but others will have their hands upon the haft.”

  “These are our cities, our lands,” he said, his voice calmer. “What is it that you are suggesting?”

  “They are no longer your cities. You will surrender power now to Mejana and myself. You will remain the Questor General until the war is concluded.”

  “Are you listening to this?” sneered Rael, turning to Niclin and Ro. “Can you believe what you are hearing?” He swung back towards Sofarita. “We are gods, woman. We do not give way to lesser beings.”

  “You are not gods, Rael. You are men with power. But let us assume for a moment you are right and that your powers do make you a god. In that case I am a goddess, and infinitely more powerful than you.”

  “A dying goddess,” snapped Rael. “You think I do not understand what it means to be crystal-joined? It has happened before. Twice. You have a few years of power, then you will become nothing more than a block of crystal.”

  “This time you are absolutely correct,” she said without hint of anger. “And I hope that saying it gave you pleasure.”

  The anger drained from Rael. “Yes, it did,” he admitted. “And it shames me.”

  “The truth is sometimes painful, Rael,” she said. “But know this: I could choose otherwise for myself, like Almeia, the goddess of the Almecs. She is fed with blood daily. She survives, and her power is very great indeed. I do not, however, wish to live upon the blood of others. But that is not the real issue here today. What I am suggesting for the Avatar will happen regardless of any path you choose now. You are the last remnants of a dead race. Your domination rests only on the power chests charged by Questor Ro. You are pitifully few in number and the people you rule outnumber you by thousands to one. Even without the Almecs, power would have changed hands within a few years. It is inevitable. What I am saying is, that if it can be today, then you have a chance to defeat the Almecs.” She spread her hands. “Or you can choose to drag the tribes and the Vagars down to death with you and leave the survivors in the hands of a terrible enemy.”

  Rael glanced at Questor Niclin. “Do you have anything to add, cousin?” he asked.

  Niclin shook his head. Rael swung toward Ro. “What about you, Questor?”

  The little man tugged his forked blue beard. “What she says is true. Our day is almost done. We cannot survive alone against the Almecs and, in truth, we could no longer quell an uprising among the Vagars. The only question that really remains is how this exchange of power will be organized.”

  Mejana rose. “May I speak?” she asked Sofarita.

  Sofarita nodded, and Mejana turned to Rael. “Earlier today I was stabbed and lay dying,” she said. “By an agent of Ammon who did not want me to meet Sofarita. Happily she arrived at my home and restored me to health. Being so close to death made me see many things differently. I was, it is true, consumed by hatred for the Avatar—and I still despise you. The only way you could justify your vampire lives was to think of us as sub-humans. I understand that. I loathe it, but I understand it. But it ends here. From this day no human being of any race will be crystal-drawn. All Vagars currently awaiting trial on race laws will be released forthwith. The race laws will be rescinded from today. A new High Council will be elected from among the Vagar and the Avatar. Since there is little time for elections to be made by the people I shall nominate the Vagars to sit upon the first council. You, Questor General, will nominate the Avatar councillors. The balance will be even, sixteen from each group. You, as the Questor General, will have the deciding vote on all matters military and civil.”

  Rael stood silently for a moment, then he nodded. “As you say, so let it be. We will meet, with you and your representatives, at the Council Chamber this evening.” He turned to Sofarita. “And now perhaps you will tell me what you have seen of the enemy?”

  “Even as we speak,” said Sofarita, “they are attacking Ammon’s capital. It will fall within hours. Another force has landed farther east, and marches inland. Two other armies have beached their ships to the south.”

  “How many men?”

  “Altogether the eastern armies number three thousand, the southern force double that. And more ships are coming every day.”

  “I have sent Viruk to fetch Ammon,” said Rael. “Is there anything you can do to help him?”

  “I will try,” said Sofarita.

  Rael looked at Mejana. “I will see you and your people this evening,” he said. Gesturing to Niclin he walked toward the door.

  “Wait, Questor General,” said Sofarita. He paused and glanced back at her. “I want your promise that neither you nor any other under your command will seek to harm Mejana or any of her people.”

  “What oath would you have me give?” he asked.

  “Swear it—on the soul of your daughter, Chryssa.”

  Rael blanched. “I so swear,” he said, then stalked from the room.

  “Did he mean it?” asked Mejana.

  “Yes, though he will seek to find a way around it before the end.”

  “As I suspected.”

  “Now you will give me the same oath,” said Sofarita. “There must be no more attacks on Avatars. Your time has come, Mejana. Accept victory with magnanimity. No more thoughts of revenge.”

  “I so swear,” said the fat woman. “And now I must go.”

  As she left the room Questor Ro approached Sofarita. “I fear I am no longer in favor with my colleagues,” he said. “Rael did not ask me to accompany him, and I do not think I will be invited to sit on the new council.” He saw that she was pensive. “What is wrong?”

  “Rael believes he is making a short-lived alliance. He is putting his faith in Anu’s new pyramid. When that is complete he plans to seize back power. As for Mejana, she dreams of a day when all Avatars can be dragged from their homes and put under the knife. Their hatred, their prejudices are deeper than oceans.”

  “Why did you not change them, as you changed me?”

  “If I had done so they would have become alienated from the people who serve them. As it is, both groups follow leaders whose views reflect their own. Come, let us walk in the garden and breathe in the scent of blooms.”

  Talaban had been superbly trained. He could read maps, lead men, sail the oceans, and construct battle strategies at a moment’s notice. But nothing in his 200 years of life had prepared him for the moment he saw Sofarita. It was as if he had been struck dumb.

  He had been fine as he approached Ro’s house with Touchstone. They had climbed down from the carriage in time to see Rael and Niclin leaving. The Questor General pulled him aside. “Be careful what you say and think, Talaban. She is powerful and can—I believe—read a man’s thoughts.”

  “Is she still under sentence of death?”

  “No. There is a new council being elected. Be at the chamber tonight, at the nineteenth hour. You will replace Questor Ro.”

  “What has happened to him?”

  “She has bewitched him, Talaban. Beware that the same does not happen to you.”

  With that the Questor General moved away to his carriage.

  Talaban and Touchstone entered the house. Ro himself greeted them. His manner seemed friendly and he was relaxed in a way Talaban had never seen before. “You are welcome, my friends,” said Ro. “Come, the lady waits.”

  They followed Ro into the garden room. The woman was sitting on a low couch. She glanced up as the men entered. Talaban looked at her, and his pace faltered. Her eyes were tawny brown, with fl
ecks of gold, her hair dark and long, her skin tanned gold. She was exquisite, and he found himself staring at her beauty, unable to think clearly.

  “Welcome, Talaban,” she said.

  Struggling to clear his mind he found himself saying “I am Talaban,” which was ridiculous, considering she had just greeted him by name. He took a step forward and his foot caught on the rug, almost making him stumble.

  “And it is good to see you again, Touchstone,” she added, smiling at the tribesman. Touchstone bowed, but said nothing.

  The smile tore into Talaban like a lance. She is bewitching you, he thought. Just as Rael prophesied. Be careful!

  “What … did you wish to … why did you call for us?” said Talaban, clumsily. Anger at his own stupidity raged through him. He had never before been so inarticulate. He felt foolish and awkward.

  “I am Sofarita,” she said, “and we needed to meet. We have both talked with One-Eyed-Fox, and we both know that this terrible enemy must be defeated.” She told him of Almeia, the living crystal, the heart of the Almec people. Talaban listened as she described the horror that awaited the peoples of the world should the Almecs conquer. She also outlined the discussions with Rael and Mejana. The warrior tried to concentrate, but his thoughts kept straying. The line of her neck was beautiful, her shoulders perfect. He looked at her lips as she spoke, trying to focus on her words. Soft lips, full, glistening …

  “Are you well, captain?” she asked him suddenly.

  “Well? Yes, I am well. Are you bewitching me, lady?”

  “Not by intent, sir,” she told him, coolly. Touchstone chuckled beside him, the sound washing over Talaban like spring water, easing his tension.

  “I am not usually this foolish,” he said. “I apologize, lady.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for, Talaban. But, tell me, are you not surprised by the turn of events? How do you feel about this new alliance with the Vagars?”

  “I cannot say,” he replied, truthfully. “It has all happened so suddenly.” He looked into her eyes, and was delighted to discover that he could do so and still think clearly. “Once the seas covered Parapolis we were finished. It was only a question of time. That time—it appears—is now upon us.”