Quantum Shadows

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Only because true believers insisted on imposing their beliefs on others. But Corvyn did not voice that thought, as he listened and made ready to depart before it became too painful to remain.

  “… Those who know belief are not equal to those who love it.”

  And in the original version of that, the word used was “truth.” “That’s a bit of a perversion of what the more ancient Master said.”

  “Not in the slightest. A true belief is truth. It cannot be otherwise. How could it possibly be?”

  Corvyn managed not to show any reaction. “I think I’ve heard that before … or something like it.” Quite recently, and before that, all too many times, with the same sad results.

  “That should tell you something, shadowed one.”

  “It does indeed. I also wondered why you’re tolerating a village of belief so close to Tian … and even closer to Sunyata.”

  At that moment, Corvyn detected the slightest changes in the power web enclosing the study and dropped into the deep shadows just before the energies converged on the spot where he had been standing.

  Through the shadows, he returned to the Hotel Hou Hei, where he immediately noted that his outfits had been returned … with certain additions, which additions he removed before he packed them in the cases that fit into the electrobike.

  Then he carried the cases down to the main level, arranged for his departure, and reclaimed the electrobike from its storage, also removing more minute devices, and rode it out into the afternoon traffic.

  Corvyn concentrated more on the streets and avenues of Tian as he made his way out of the city, heading toward the highway to Sunyata. While he doubted that the followers of Siddhartha involved themselves with the tridents, or in any sort of alliance with either Zijuan or Jaweau, the current Upali might just have some information, and since Sunyata was on the way to Varanasi, where, according to Sunya, something was definitely going on, there was no reason not to make a quick stop there, especially since it would only take a brief detour to visit a certain village of belief that he definitely needed to investigate.

  After that, it would be interesting to see if he found Erinna, although that was certainly not the true name of the poetess, in Sunyata.

  Corvyn also found it most interesting that Zijuan and Jaweau used the exact same phrase: “A true belief is truth. It cannot be otherwise.” If the two weren’t communicating, they certainly had some similar thoughts … or had read similar old works. Yet by itself, the fact that each had used the same words didn’t necessarily mean anything. Except that both are thinking in a way that has had devastating consequences in the past.

  Zijuan’s attempt to annihilate Corvyn was likely as much a way of refusing to talk to him further as an actual attempt to remove Corvyn, although there was no doubt that Zijuan would have been pleased if the attempt had succeeded.

  Also, Zijuan had hidden the trident. Then there was the nagging question of who had set Rudianos/Ares after Corvyn … and why? All of the hegemons would have known that the Ares avatar was unlikely to have been successful, but that failure most assuredly led to Corvyn’s remaining on the Blue Dolphin. Also, most gods or demigods of battle tended to overestimate their own capabilities, as well as underestimate the devastation they created, or at least seem unconcerned with the subsequent havoc.

  In short, so far most of what he discovered pointed toward devastation, but without much proof of who might have been behind it, and whether it was just one House or village of belief, or even worse and more likely, several.

  Music’s beauty can so deceive the mind.

  The raven’s croak, to that, is most unkind.

  36

  Just past midafternoon two days after departing Tian, Corvyn neared the Mekong River, across which waited Sunyata, but he had another visit to make first. He kept searching for the road that turned off the main way somewhere near the ferry slip ahead. The land was comparatively flat, but that was difficult to see, given the extensive orchards flanking the main road.

  Corvyn had just sighted Sunyata across the river, with its largely yellow buildings and the massive stone Buddha, when he spied, perhaps a quarter mille short of the ferry slip, a narrower road that joined the main road from the left. He continued eastward on the main road until he reached the road heading north.

  With a wry smile, he turned onto it, studying both the road and the vegetation and terrain on each side. As he rode north, before long, the orchards vanished, replaced by clearly untended trees. The white stone pavement of the road was likely no more than a year old, although there was virtually no way to tell the age of the near-eternal roads of Heaven just by looking. The smooth contours of the land leading down to the shoulders of the road, however, showed little sign of change, suggesting that an older road had been replaced with a wider roadbed, something that happened only occasionally among the lands sharing the great plateau of Heaven. Low bushes and grass grew near the road, but on the west side, beginning some ten meters from the shoulder, were older trees and undergrowth, as Corvyn would have expected at such a distance from Tian. On the east side of the river, between the road and river, a grassy slope led down to the reeds rising out of the shallow water near shore.

  There were no holdings near, unsurprisingly, since the teachings of the Twin Masters focused more on moral and structural improvement than on either rural life or the balance with nature at least rhetorically and theologically emphasized by the Taoists.

  Corvyn had only ridden somewhat less than a half hour on the newer north road before he sensed the flow of shadows and power ahead, even though he had not caught sight of the unnamed village of belief, a village that should not have existed so far south in the lands of Tian or so close to the middle of the great plateau, and certainly not so close to Sunyata. Nor should it have displayed anywhere near that many different currents of shadow power. For that reason, he slowed the electrobike, looking for a side lane or path through the wooded lands to his left.

  Now that he looked for just such a path or lane, he didn’t see one. Because he did not want to ride any closer to the town, he rode a few hundred meters farther and eased the electrobike off the road as soon as he saw a slight gap in the woods. At that slight break in the trees and undergrowth, he dismounted and wheeled the bike farther into the trees, predominantly maples, a species inconsistent with the lands of the Twin Masters. But then, much of what occurred in Heaven, either ecologically or theologically, was anything but consistent, which was in turn, rather consistent with human nature, much as the Laozi and his believers would have liked it to be otherwise.

  After concealing the electrobike with the hint of shadows not likely to be perceived by any power or principality except within a few meters, Corvyn donned the semblance of a raven and took to the air, his wings carrying him above the green canopy of the woodlands. The canopy soon gave way to dwellings set along lanes far too regular to have grown in the normal fashion of villages of belief, more like the ordered streets and ways of larger towns, or a town quickly built around a belief backed by a certain organizational ability or structure. Towns that grew rapidly without such structural power were little more than chaotic sprawls of dwellings.

  The dwellings themselves were constructed of reddish-tan stone similar in color to sandstone, but likely formulated rather than quarried, seeing as there were no signs of quarries nearby, and sandstone was comparatively rare farther to the north. To quickly construct a town to support a belief, or a singer capable of mobilizing a belief, required resources that a singer alone, no matter how charismatic, did not possess. That meant that Zijuan backed, or did not oppose, Bran Denu and those who supported him for reasons of his own, reasons that Corvyn doubted were necessarily in accord with the motives of the others who had to be involved. Those others were almost certainly from Varanasi, although not necessarily Shiva, along with Jaweau, not that Corvyn had a shred of hard evidence as of yet, particularly since the White One had left few traces, and those only discernible by one
such as Corvyn.

  As Corvyn flew toward the large building in the center of the town, a building that appeared to be neither temple nor church, but a performance hall, he sensed another presence in the sky over the unnamed town—a massive war eagle that could only be Garuda.

  That war eagle was in a stoop toward the raven that was Corvyn. Corvyn banked left, then folded his wings and dropped, before vanishing into the shadows, just for an instant, enough for him to reappear behind the eagle’s neck with his claws dug firmly in.

  “If you expand to deal with me,” Corvyn said, “then you’ll have the Lances of Heaven targeting us, and you won’t be fast enough to escape. I suggest you just land next to that performance hall that someone built for the singer, and we can resume larger forms.”

  As Garuda angled toward the ground, Corvyn had no doubts that the fight was not over, wagering that Garuda would either vanish just before reaching the ground or that another presence would be waiting, if not more. So at perhaps three meters above ground, Corvyn again entered the shadows, where he sensed the shades concealed around the wide stone walk leading into the hall.

  There were two others besides Garuda, who had acted as Corvyn had predicted. One was so red that he had to be Ares in the form of Rudianos, and the other seemed almost composed of flames.

  Before manifesting himself in a form visible to the others, Corvyn twisted the shadows into a portal and thrust the unsuspecting Ares/Rudianos through into the depths below Limbo. Given the Red One’s endurance, Corvyn had no doubt he would survive, but it would be some considerable time before he worked his way up to Limbo and around the Torrent to regain Heaven, by which time whatever would transpire would have occurred.

  Then Corvyn manifested himself … and waited.

  After some moments, Garuda appeared as a winged warrior twice the size of Corvyn and asked, “What did you do with Rudianos?”

  “I sent him on a journey. He won’t be back for a while.”

  “To Hades, no doubt. He can’t hold Rudianos.”

  “No, but his return won’t be that soon.”

  “You’re not a raven,” declared Garuda. “You’re more like a serpent, half into your shadow hole. You know what I do with snakes.”

  “Let’s put that aside for a moment. Do you have any intention of telling me what you and your demigod henchmen are doing at a false village of belief in Tian?”

  “It’s as true a village of belief as any other,” replied Garuda.

  “That’s fair.” Given what Corvyn thought about most villages of belief, he had to concede that to Garuda. “If that’s so, why are three battle gods here? Well … two now.”

  “You might say we’re here to protect Bran Denu’s freedom of religious expression. Why are you here?”

  “If you’re going to phrase it that way, I’m here to protect everyone else’s religious freedom.”

  “That’s rather amusing, given that your habitat is the shadows.”

  “Apparently, it’s Kovas’s habitat as well. At least at the moment. You might tell him to leave the shadows. I could send him to follow Rudianos if he doesn’t.” Corvyn didn’t mention that he could do that no matter where the god of victory and fire might be.

  Kovas appeared. “What brings you here, Kutkh?”

  “I’ve been called worse. I’m here to see what idiocy you three were up to. Is Bran in the hall? Practicing? Or is he out somewhere north, using his songs to entice more holy warriors to the banner of faith?” That was the only way Corvyn could phrase it, because he had no idea which banner of faith had co-opted the singer. He only knew why … and that it was a very bad idea, as were most based totally on faith.

  Kovas turned to Garuda. “Kutkh cannot be trusted, except to further his own ends.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know, small god,” said Garuda, almost wearily.

  “Are you any different, Kovas?” asked Corvyn. “Isn’t your goal always the bright flame of victory, even if the flames are those of an entire world burning?”

  “All worlds burn, sooner or later. Triumphing in the struggle is the only victory in life or death.”

  “Personally,” said Corvyn mildly, “I prefer enjoying good wines, good music, spiced with the words of a good poet. All you’re left with after your victory fire is ashes.”

  “We’re all still here,” Garuda pointed out.

  No thanks to all you deities of war. “For now,” admitted Corvyn. “But there have been too many plundered and burned worlds, and the universe isn’t as young as it once was, and good planets are harder to come by … at least given the technology the universe permits. Even gods and this Heaven face quantum limits. Even…” Corvyn had been about to say that even the Valkyries didn’t want another Ragnarok or Götterdämmerung.

  “Given the limits imposed by the Pearls of Heaven, you mean?” snapped Kovas. “Faith has no limits.”

  “Which ones of you killed the two Valkyries?” demanded Corvyn, his eyes on Kovas.

  “The Valkyries?” Kovas tried to look surprised. “What does that have to do with faith?”

  “I can see that your mind’s made up.” Without physically moving, Corvyn wrapped the shadow portals around the ash-loving god of war and victory and transported him a bit lower than he had Rudianos in the nether realms.

  “Why do you bother?” asked Garuda. “They’ll be back.”

  “That’s true.” But not in time to get in the way. “I guess it’s because I’m kindhearted to tools, even tools who are gods. Now … was it you or Kartikeya who killed the Valkyries?”

  Garuda did not immediately reply.

  “Do you want to follow them?” pressed Corvyn.

  “You can’t do that to me.”

  “They didn’t even know about the tridents.”

  “Tridents? You mean trishulas?”

  Corvyn sensed Garuda’s confusion and knew there was little point in pursuing the deaths of Brynhyld and Kara with the eagle god. He paused, then said, “Shall we go inside and hear the latest battle hymns that Bran has composed?”

  “That charade won’t change anything.”

  “You mean in the greater scheme of things? It might. Then it might not. In any case, I’d like to hear what Bran has wrought.”

  “Why do you bother? It’s not as though his songs will change Heaven.”

  “Then why is history filled with martial music?”

  When Garuda did not answer, Corvyn walked past him and into the performing hall, a space that could hold more than a thousand, which was more than suggestive, although it was empty at the moment, except for the singer.

  Bran Denu stood upon the stage, fingering the lutelin, almost absently. He looked up as the two figures entered the hall. “Who’s your friend, Garuda?”

  “You might call him the shadow of the past. For some obscure reason, he wants to hear what you’ve wrought.”

  “He should come to a performance then.”

  “Just one of your latest hymns,” suggested Corvyn politely. Or pseudo-hymns designed to get people to experience religious rapture. The sort of thing that Jaweau wants to draw people in.

  “You can come back later.” Denu strummed the lutelin, projecting both voice and a certain power.

  “Where have all the powers gone, long time passing?

  Gone to graveyards, every one…”

  Corvyn brushed away the shadow-tinged words as he walked toward the stage. “I’d appreciate hearing one of your real hymns.”

  Denu stopped singing. “Who are you?”

  “You don’t want to know. Just sing one of your new hymns.”

  Denu looked to Garuda, who had followed Corvyn.

  Garuda nodded.

  Denu frowned, but then cleared his throat and began to sing.

  “When Heaven’s Light shines bright in purpled skies and holy fire,

  Amid the shades of greed, and sloth, and sinful base desire,

  We know our ancient foe will seek to work us woe;

  His shad
e and skill so great, and, armed with reasoned hate,

  He’d praise in song the Liar…”

  Corvyn sensed the shadow links to the singer and immediately recognized the pattern, as well as the power behind that pattern.

  “Should we in our own strength abide, our striving would be losing

  Were not the White One on our side, the God of Heaven’s choosing…”

  Corvyn concentrated, manipulating the shadows to break certain links, and leaving Denu with only the voice and talent he had originally possessed.

  The singer stopped, clearly stunned.

  “Thank you,” Corvyn called out, then looked to Garuda. “I’ve heard enough.” More than enough. He eased toward the door, not caring if Garuda followed.

  Garuda did.

  When the two were standing outside the hall, Garuda looked to Corvyn. “Now that you’ve ruined Denu and more than inconvenienced Rudianos and Kovas, do you think I’d just let you fly off?”

  Corvyn smiled pleasantly. “For your sake, I do hope so.” And for mine, because it will make matters easier. His eyes fixed on Garuda.

  A halberd appeared in Garuda’s hands.

  “I wouldn’t,” said Corvyn. “Then, again, maybe it would be better that way. You wouldn’t have to explain to Shiva.”

  “You never carry weapons, Raven.”

  “That’s because I’m much like you.”

  A puzzled expression appeared on Garuda’s face, but only for an instant, before he stepped back, then vanished. Almost instantaneously, a war eagle appeared overhead, winging its way eastward.

  Corvyn resumed the form of a raven, and flew back south to reclaim his electrobike, in order to resume his journey … and to deal with Kartikeya.

  In what distant Heaven’s skies

  formed Raven’s hate of holy lies?

  37

  From the pale gray sky swooped a deep brown dartship, aimed like an arrow for the angelship whose whiteness radiated from its lifting body and wings, even as the announcement reverberated across the center of Albion, the subsonics beneath the projected voice designed to raise fear in all who listened.