I looked over to the men and women. They sat in a tight, huddled group, slightly disorientated, fearful without knowing why. Many cried softly, others looked about, watching for the danger they knew was there but could not identify. Most were well-featured, their faces and hands unlined, and I realised they must be towns people. Not slaves from Gesholme.
“What am I going to do,” Zabrze said very quietly by my side, “with a land full of people so damaged by their experience?”
He was not talking of their physical ordeal but their emotional and psychological trauma.
“It will take them time,” I said, “but they will laugh again one day, Zabrze. Have no fear.”
My words did nothing to reassure him, and he gave the order to break camp.
Isphet and I spent most of the day walking with the sad group, while Boaz strode at the front of the column, the dog leaping about his legs.
Whoever I talked to among this group said much the same thing. They did not know what had happened to them. They had been engaged in their usual chores and daily activities, and then…nothing. The stone had swept through their existence so swiftly they had not even been aware of the danger.
They said that they felt as if they’d been trapped in some dreadful, drugged sleep. Many said they felt as if they would slip back into that sleep if they closed their eyes even for an instant. All were nervous, all swept anxious eyes across the stone landscape that still held them trapped, none listened to our reassurances.
They were a sad, hopeless people and they passed so much of their sadness and hopelessness onto Isphet and myself that we were forced to leave them and walk ahead with Boaz.
That night I dreamed again.
This time Nzame dragged me into the Infinity Chamber.
“See the blood,” his voice whispered about me, for he did not bother to take form. “See the blood.”
It ran in rivulets down the golden walls. As I watched it slowed, coagulated, and formed words with its clots and strings.
Boaz will die here Tirzah, they read, here Boaz will die.
“Take him to Viland, Tirzah,” Nzame whispered to me. “You do not want to lose him, do you?”
Take him far, far away. Or lose him.
“Tirzah.”
Again Boaz’s hand and voice woke me. I had not screamed, but still he knew. “Do not listen to him, Tirzah. He will do anything, tell any lie, to make us turn aside. Do not listen to him. Do not believe him.”
I did not cry this time, but still I lay sleepless until it was time to rise.
We marched silent through a desolate landscape. The sun beat down, baking the stone which in turn burned through the soles of our sandals. The representations of Threshold grew more bizarre. Some looked as if they had been exposed to so much heat their stark lines had melted, others looked so ancient their peaks had crumbled and their sides had begun to cave in upon themselves.
Yet always an eye stared out from each face, following our progress.
In the late morning the dog began to bark at something in the cleft of a rock. Her tail wagged so enthusiastically her entire rear half waggled.
Boaz and I shared a curious glance, then walked over to have a look. Zabrze rode up beside us, and waved in several more guards.
“Be careful,” he said as we approached the now wildly excited dog.
Boaz pulled her back by the scruff of her neck, then peered into the crack. “Kus!” he whispered, totally shocked…but not scared.
Fetizza sat crouched in the cleft, squeezed so much by the rock to either side of her I thought she was in danger of exploding.
Boaz motioned to one of the soldiers to take the dog, then he lifted Fetizza out of the rock cleft.
The instant she was out she expanded to almost the size of the small dog. She gave a relieved croak, then relaxed in Boaz’s arms, happily blinking at us.
I looked at Boaz, Boaz looked at Zabrze, and Zabrze just opened and closed his mouth.
“How?” he finally managed.
Boaz shook his head, then something in the cleft caught my eye.
“Look!” I cried.
Pure, crystal water was seeping forth. It filled the crack, then ran over. It pooled until we were forced to stand back, then it found another small crack, and flowed into that.
Fetizza croaked again, utterly self-satisfied.
The water burbled out over the stone until it found successive cracks, filled them, then flowed further, seeking, exploring.
We all stepped back, watching it.
Now the water formed a narrow stream winding through the stone landscape.
“It’s heading towards that stone pyramid!” Isphet said.
Everyone now stood riveted by the sight.
The pyramid watched, too. The eyes in the two faces that could see the water stared until the pyramid literally went cross-eyed.
I grinned. I could not help it. I had the feeling that far, far away Nzame was raging helplessly at the sight of this slim stream of water trickling towards his self-image.
The dog barked excitedly, and Fetizza croaked.
The water hit the pyramid. For an instant it foamed against the stone face, then the side of the pyramid split with a loud crack, and then shattered, and the entire pyramid collapsed and disappeared beneath the spreading stream.
The water continued to spread, seeping through cracks and fissures in the rock. We stood for an hour or more, watching. About twenty paces wide, the stream spread into the distance, back the way we’d come. A shallow, shining sheet of water.
We felt more cheerful than we had for many days. Even the Released, as Isphet had named those people who we’d freed from their stone prison, smiled and talked as we went.
It had been the sight of the cross-eyed pyramid, I think, collapsing beneath the gentle stream, that had done such wonders.
Boaz wrapped Fetizza in a damp cloth and carried her in his arms until we made camp.
Then he put her down, and she immediately nestled into another cleft in the stone surface.
Almost instantly water seeped up about her, and trickled away until, in time, it would join with the stream she’d created that morning. On its way I had no doubt it would encounter the twenty-four miniature pyramids we’d passed since Fetizza had reappeared.
We all bathed in the water before we ate, and it refreshed and renewed us. I saw that the Released smiled and laughed, and I even saw a few splash water over their neighbours.
I shared a relieved look with Isphet. Fetizza’s water would do what no words on our part could.
There were no dreams that night, and when we woke, it was to the excited shout of one of the sentries.
Behind our camps stretched a massive sheet of water – Fetizza had been busy. Yet it was not so much the water that had so caught the sentry’s eye but the thin, jagged sheets of rock that speared up through it.
The stone underneath the water had splintered and shattered. Through the shallow pools of water, and between the sheets of rock that had been cast aside, we could see new earth.
“The tears of the Soulenai,” Boaz said quietly, “renewing the land.”
43
NO more stone-men attacked us; Nzame must have realised the futility of sending small groups against our force. We marched across the stone landscape for five more days, tense but not as despondent as we had been. Behind us stretched sheets of water soaking into the newly wakened earth. The strips uncovered by the water were not yet extensive, but they gave us hope, and every night as we watched Fetizza settle into yet another crack we smiled as the water seeped up about her.
Fetizza seemed totally unfussed by the attention everyone gave her, and hissed and flattened only when the bitch approached. Not that the dog did that very often; she’d already found out that Fetizza could nip fiercely when provoked, and once the frog had almost drowned her in an ankle-deep puddle of water.
The Released continued to improve. We all bathed nightly, and each evening the Released splashed ab
out I could almost see a few more of their fears sliding away with the water.
I wished that the water could have done as much for my fears as it did for theirs. Nzame had not approached me in my sleep again, but I thought he was just biding his time.
Boaz was very quiet. He slept as undisturbed as I, but he was increasingly wrapped in inner thoughts.
On the sixth day after Fetizza had reappeared, we met Iraldur of Darsis.
There was a flurry of movement at the head of the column, and I lifted my eyes.
“Boaz, look! There are men ahead.”
Zabrze rode forward to meet a war chariot pulled by two black steeds accompanied by a group of six horsemen. Even from this distance I could see the glint of chest plates beneath silken scarves, and the wicked curve of free scimitars. The man driving the chariot was more heavily armed than any of his soldiers.
As Zabrze hailed them, the man in the chariot waved at his horsemen, who pulled their mounts back and sheathed their weapons. Then he leaned over to take Zabrze’s hand.
“Iraldur,” Boaz said. “Come on, Tirzah.”
Iraldur was about Zabrze’s age, a fierce looking man with narrowed eyes and an easy familiarity with his weapons and war chariot. He was also patently furious.
“A great army of stone-men shuffles two days’ march to the west, Zabrze. You have harboured this pestilence within your realm, fed it, and yet now you ask for my help in disposing of it?”
“And I thank you for your assistance,” Zabrze said mildly. “For here you are.”
“The only reason I am here, Zabrze, is because this wickedness is nibbling at my people and land as well! Do you realise that now we stand on what was once fertile Darsis land? Grain fields have produced only stone this season, Zabrze, and for that I have you to thank!”
“I am not responsible –”
“You are Chad, Zabrze, for I hear Nezzar has finally tipped completely into madness, and as Chad you are responsible for every piece of excrement every one of your subjects produces. And this particular piece of shit,” he spat on the ground, “is most definitely your responsibility!”
Iraldur spotted us. “Ah! Magus Boaz! Have you come to explain what the Magi have set loose on my country? Have you come to explain to weeping mothers why their husbands are stone and their children are taken to feed the appetite of this –”
Then Iraldur spotted Fetizza in Boaz’s arms and his mouth fell open.
“Much of what has been destroyed can be renewed, Iraldur,” Boaz said, and set Fetizza on the ground. She found a suitable crack and squeezed in happily, emitting a loud sound which I hoped was a sigh of satisfaction.
“On behalf of the Magi,” Boaz continued as Iraldur dragged his eyes away from the frog, “I must accept responsibility for what has happened. The Magi’s greed for Infinity has loosed wickedness, but with your help, and that of Zabrze’s, I hope to put it right. Get me to Threshold, Iraldur, and I will win back for you your land and your people.”
Just as Iraldur was about to reply his eye caught the gleam of water as it oozed up about Fetizza, and the frog croaked and grinned at him.
Iraldur led us to his camp, an hour’s march away. He had set up camp on the stone, he explained, because he was afraid of what might happen if he camped just outside of it and Nzame decided to expand his influence.
“We would all be turned to stone in the winking of an eye,” he said as he waved us inside an extravagantly draped tent. “And I am not yet ready for such a living death.”
Isphet and I accompanied our husbands inside. Iraldur had been surprised to find that Boaz had taken a wife – I think that actually endeared Boaz a little more to him – but was stunned and saddened to find that Neuf was dead.
“I think not to insult you, my Lady Isphet,” he said, “but I had known Neuf since my boyhood, and she was a friend.”
Isphet inclined her head graciously. No doubt she would encounter more such surprise in the future.
Iraldur waited until we were comfortably settled, and then turned back to Zabrze. “Tell me.”
Zabrze looked about us, then back to Iraldur. “There are four within this tent with stories to tell, Iraldur, and it is best for you to hear them all. You said this stone-man army is two days to the west?”
Iraldur nodded.
“Then you have this evening to spare to listen. No, wait. How great a force do you have here?”
“Six thousand men. As many horses.”
“Then we shall dispose of these stone-men easily enough, and I think you shall be surprised to see what we do with them. Patience. These tales are important.”
Iraldur stared at Zabrze, then he nodded curtly. “Very well.” He waved at a servant, and we were served chilled fruit juice spiced with something that momentarily made my head spin, then gave everything in the tent a sharper edge.
“Boaz?” Zabrze asked quietly. “Will you begin?”
Iraldur sat and listened without comment as first Boaz, then Isphet, me and, lastly, Zabrze, told our tales. The Prince waved the servant forward every so often, replenishing our glasses, and only interrupted to clarify a point, or, when I spoke, to ask if he could see the Goblet of the Frogs and the Book of the Soulenai.
I sent word to Holdat, and he entered just as Zabrze finished his tale, and handed me the book and goblet. I passed them to Iraldur.
“It is a remarkable tale you tell,” he said, and he looked at me, then Isphet. “Slaves become Necromancers and then the wives of Princes and Chads.”
Isphet held out her wrists. “Then chain us again, Iraldur, if you think we deserve it.”
“I do not criticise, Isphet,” Iraldur said. “Over the years I have heard many philosophers argue that slaves are the only ones within a society who exist in a true state of nobility. Today, perhaps, I have seen the truth of that theory.”
Isphet’s mouth twisted bitterly. “I doubt these philosophers have ever been slaves themselves, Iraldur. I have never yet met the slave who has revelled in the nobility of his or her existence.”
“Win me back my people,” Iraldur said very softly, “and I will oil and kiss your feet myself.”
“Will you help us, Iraldur?” Zabrze asked. “We have two days before this cursed stone army reaches us. I cannot deal with it on my own. Will you help us?”
“Yes.” Iraldur closed the Book of the Soulenai. “Yes, I will.”
I thought to sleep well that night, but I was wrong.
Nzame came to me in the form of the handsome black-eyed man, standing again in the summer fields of Viland.
“Stone-men are but a fraction of the power at my disposal, foolish girl. Ten thousand I send to meet you, but I can as easily generate ten thousand more, and then ten thousand more to follow them. Can you deal with that many? Will you spend your life laying hands on that many? Can you survive that great a challenge?”
I thought that if I ignored him, if I turned away, he would tire of the game.
But my legs were stone to my thighs, and I knew I would age and die before Nzame grew tired of the game.
“I know what Boaz intends to do, Tirzah. Do you? Do you?”
I could not help myself. I looked up.
“He thinks, Tirzah, to wrap me in his power and drag me through to Infinity. His power? Ha!”
Nzame’s laughter rang about me, then he stopped as suddenly as he had started.
“But even if he should succeed, Tirzah. Even if he should succeed. There we would be, trapped together in Infinity. Imagine. Your lover and me, locked in our own Infinity. It would not be your sweet embrace he would feel, but mine. For eternity, Tirzah. No escape. My embrace.”
“No!”
“Yes! Tirzah, think. If he comes to me either he will succeed, or he won’t. Which would be the preferable outcome, Tirzah? Would you prefer Boaz to fail…and die? Or would you prefer him to succeed…and spend Infinity in my embrace?”
I began to sob, twisting my body about, wishing I was free to run through the fields a
way from these taunts.
“Is he a good lover, Tirzah? Shall I enjoy Infinity in his embrace?”
Then suddenly my legs were free, and I had my wish. I turned and ran as hard as I could, barefoot through the soft grass and flowers.
Nzame’s laughter rang after me. “Which would you prefer, sweet Tirzah? Which? I shall make sure that it happens. What is it you wish for your lover? Death? Or…?”
44
WE did not get the two days to prepare, because somehow Nzame infused his stone-men with more speed, and they attacked at dusk of the next day.
We had an hour’s warning, for Nzame could not conceal their approach completely. There was an instant’s awkward hesitation after the scouts had delivered their dreadful news, while Zabrze and Iraldur stared at each other, wondering which should take command. Zabrze, whose fight it truly was? Or Iraldur, who commanded the vast majority of men?
It was Iraldur who settled the matter. “Tell me how to use my men, but hurry up about it!” he snapped, and Zabrze commanded.
Isphet, Boaz and I were relegated to Iraldur’s gaudy tent, with a unit of men to guard us. Boaz fumed, but Zabrze would let him nowhere near the action.
“You are too important to waste under a tumbling body of stone,” he said. “Already we’ve lost Yaqob when we could well use him. You will stay here. Kiamet! Make sure that they do!”
I felt sick with apprehension as I stood at the tent flap, watching him mount and ride away. Ten thousand stone-men. Ten thousand!
I let the flap fall and set myself to wrapping, then rewrapping the goblet and book, trying to keep myself calm.
“Lady,” Holdat said softly by my side. “You shall break them with your fiddling. Here, I will take them.”
“Be careful!” But he had already gone.
Fetizza no-one worried about. At the first shout she had wedged herself into an impossibly small crack in the ground – even if a stone-man should tumble directly over her she would be protected.
Threshold Page 42