Night's Master
Page 22
They danced till a marvelous sensuous weariness overcame them, and then the seven virgin sisters sank down in a ring about the trunk, and their heads fell back on the springy moss, and their eyes were glazed by dreams. Jaseve stole by them and, reaching up, she swiftly loosed the knot in the sash and shook forth the wild east wind. Furious to be free, the wind was. It lashed the tree so all the grey flowers were violently tossed in it, and from their petals the greyness flew off in a thick cloud. It was actually ash that had turned them ash-grey; and now the ash was sucked up into the wind as it flew about the tree, and next, as the wind raced in a circle, the ash scattered from it. It settled upon the seven maidens beneath the tree and, as it did so, each one moaned and twisted as if some invisible force of pleasure had seized her. And then each cried out aloud several times, and lay quiet. The ash had vanished and the wind had fled. Jaseve sighed, and she too went away, patiently to wait.
Seven girls woke in the morning, woke in the ancient forest dressed in silk. Seven girls remembered an unusual experience and seven girls blushed. Over their heads a tree of blue-purple flowers was not as they recalled.
Bemused, whispering, giggling, they crept home and took off their silk, and hid themselves virtuously in their beds.
Some months later, there was no hiding anything.
“Oh my daughters!” bellowed the farmer. “All seven deflowered. All seven with child.”
It was true enough, no mistaking the signs. Seven lovely girls with high round bellies, lowering their demure eyes.
“Who is the wretch—the wretches?” bawled the farmer.
“A dream,” murmured Fleet.
“A dream of a tree,” murmured Flame.
“A flower from a tree,” murmured Foam.
“No, the wind,” murmured Fan.
“A fiery wind,” murmured Fountain.
“Ash on the wind,” murmured Favour.
“No,” said Fair the youngest, “it was a beautiful man with black hair and eyes like the burning coals.”
“The shame!” howled the farmer. But he told the neighbors his seven daughters had a strange malady, highly infectious. And he secluded them in the house and allowed no visitors. It was an age of Innocence, he was believed, though for seven months the “malady” persisted.
On the last day of the seventh month the sun went down, and seven sisters each gave a scream and fell on their beds. For seven hours there was screaming. In the last minute of the seventh hour, seven sisters each gave a triumphant shriek.
The old servant woman of the house, who had been assisting the labor, began to scream instead. The father ran in and shook her, “Well, are they sons or daughters?”
The servant woman, regaining her natural fortitude, remarked: “I declare that never in my long life, which now has doubtless been shortened by this shock, have I witnessed such a thing. Fleet has given birth to a little baby’s arm, and Flame to another little arm, and I will be struck dead if Foam has not given birth to a leg and Fan to another leg, while poor Fountain brought forth a whole torso, and Favour a head.”
“And Fair?” whimpered the farmer.
“Well,” said the servant woman wisely, “I am sure I cannot say what Fair has given birth to, but rest assured, it is a fine specimen.”
The farmer wept, and when he had ceased weeping, he commanded all these pieces of a child’s body, so unnaturally accrued, to be bundled in a sheet and buried. But no sooner were the portions of anatomy in the sheet together than the sheet began to writhe.
The farmer fled, but the wise servant woman peeped in, and she saw a wonderous joining had taken place, and a whole healthy child, of striking beauty, lay there sleeping.
“Now,” said the servant woman, “which of you girls has milk to give this infant?” She had got herself in a mundane mood, but she was to be tested still further. None of the seven daughters were found to have any milk upon them and, in any case, it was not needed. For, turning to the child again with clucks of commiseration, the servant woman saw he was prodigiously grown. Indeed, the child in the sheet was now a handsome boy of perhaps eleven years. “Steady, my chick,” cried the servant woman disparagingly, “you will overtax yourself.” But to no avail. In another minute the child had grown further, and further yet. Now a toothsome, adolescent youth lay there, jet black of hair, thrilling to look on, so the old servant trembled all over. Then, even the youth was gone. A man was stretched upon the sheet. He seemed made of dark light, he glowed with beauty, and his naked body was like a god’s, or as they thought a god’s should be, the eight who shivered awestruck above him. His sleeping face deprived them of speech.
But abruptly Fair, the youngest of the seven sisters, crept to the window, and there in the east she saw a single yellow sword uplifted, the token that the sun was coming. What made her do it she never knew, but she hurried to the incredible man, and, kneeling by him, she kissed his mouth, and whispered: “Azhrarn, awake, for the sun returns to earth and you must return to your own kingdom.”
And the man’s eyelids flickered up, and two dark fires blazed suddenly between the bladed lashes, and he smiled, and touched the lips of Fair with his cool fingers. And then he was gone.
The room was filled with screaming yet again, while a black eagle rose unseen into the sky of earth, turned on its broad wings, and vanished without trace.
Moments after, the bright sun rose. But be sure, the age of Innocence was ended.
About the Author
Tanith Lee was born in 1947, in London, England. After non-education at a couple of schools, followed by actual good education at another, she received wonderful education at the Prendergast Grammar School until the age of 17. She then worked (inefficiently) at many jobs, including library assistant, shop assistant, waitress and clerk, also taking a year off to attend art school at age 25. In 1974 (curious reversal of her birthdate) DAW Books of America accepted 3 of her fantasy/ SF novels, (published in 1975/ 6), and thereafter 23 of her books, so breaking her chains and allowing her to be the only thing she effectively could: a full-time writer.
Since then she has written 77 novels, 14 collections, and almost 300 short stories, plus 4 radio plays (broadcast by the BBC) and 2 scripts for the TV cult UK SF series Blake’s 7. Her work, which has been translated into over 17 languages, ranges through fantasy, SF, gothic, YA and Children’s Books, contemporary, historical and detective novels, and horror. This year she was awarded the prestigious title of Grand Master of Horror 2009. She has also won major awards for several of her books/ stories, including the August Derleth Award for Death’s Master, the second book in the Flat Earth series.
She lives near the South East coast of England with her husband, writer-photographer-artist John Kaiine. And two tuxedo cats of many charms, whose main creative occupations involve eating, revamping the carpets, and meowperatics.
Table of Contents
Dedication
INTRODUCTION by Tanith Lee
BOOK ONE Light Underground
PART ONE
PART TWO
BOOK TWO: Tricksters
PART ONE
PART TWO
BOOK THREE: The World’s Lure
PART ONE
PART TWO
About the Author