by Martin Ash
The gidsha. Was I still under its influence? Was I here in this chamber, or dreaming it? How could I know?
Do you dream, Cormer of Chol?
That echo in my memory. I shivered as the images ranged before my mind’s eye. The Citadel. I saw it, and yet knew more had happened than I remembered now. So much more than I could grasp.
What was all the shouting outside?
I sat up slowly, the world slewing, my head ringing with vicious pain. A pitcher stood beside the bed. I reached out and grasped it, watched my fingers close like claws around the handle. Ignoring the wooden cup at its side I raised the pitcher to my parched lips and gulped down the cold sweet water in great draughts. It helped, a little. The searing dryness of my mouth and throat abated, and even the wild pain in my head seemed to lessen slightly. I splashed water on cheeks and forehead, then sat on the edge of the bed, hands nursing my head, trying to remember, struggling to understand. Something just below my consciousness, tugging at me, a voice, urging me to hear.
Yo!
‘Master, I am here.’
I groaned. I was in no state to deal with him.
‘I have an urgent message from your Chariness, Master.’
‘Be brief then, Yo. I am unwell.’
‘Can I be of assistance?’
‘No. Impart your message and leave. Your presence may be detected.’
‘In reply to the message I relayed on your behalf, the Chariness states that the eel-trader, Wirm of Guling Mire, is known to be a close associate of your target. He has connections in dark places and should be treated with caution. The other man, Vecco, is a bastard-child of a Nirakupi kin chieftain and a villain of the lowest order. Beware him also.’
Nirakupi? There then was the gidsha connection. Had Vecco been Wirm’s supplier? Almost certainly, if Vecco had clan-links with influential Nirakupi kin-members, he could have smuggled the root out. But then why had Wirm had him killed? And why had Vecco come after me?
I was hardly enlightened. The Chariness gave me little that I had not already discovered or surmised. But Yo’s words now, as he completed her message, were another matter.
‘Feikermun is judged to be in a highly dangerous condition,’ he said. ‘He cannot be allowed to continue. You are ordered to take whatever steps are necessary to end his life at the first opportunity. Consider this your priority.’
‘No!’ I blurted out as the echo of another voice whispered urgently: Feikermun must not die!
Aniba. But could I be sure that she was real? Was what she had told me real, or had all of it been hallucination induced by the prepared gidsha? The Citadel - was it anything more than fevered imagination? I had been there, had seen what it held. I had seen myself! But how could I know I was not the victim of my own delusions?
‘Yo, I cannot execute that command. Inform the Chariness that there have been changes. I cannot kill Feikermun, not yet. I can’t explain now - it would take too long, and every moment that you remain here increases the risk of detection. But Feikermun must not die, not under any circumstances, at least until I’ve learned more.’
‘The Chariness was adamant—’
‘So am I! Go, now, and tell her what I have said. Until I know more, Feikermun must live. Now leave me!’
‘I am gone, Master.’
My head spun. To disobey a direct command from the Zan-Chassin Hierarchy, on the strength of words spoken to me by a phantom while under the influence of a hallucinogenic drug? Had I lost my senses? I lay back on the bed, my blood pounding in my ears. I had to find out more, but the only way to do that was to re-enter the Citadel, and for that I would have to take more gidsha. The thought unnerved me. Was this how it achieved its insidious grip, luring men and women into mindless addiction through the power of its visions?
I tried to stand then, but a wave of pain and nausea pitched me back on to the bed. Still I could hear the shouting from outside: many voices, men. A shaft of dazzling sunlight stabbed through the window. I coerced myself gingerly to my feet and crossed the room unsteadily, one hand clasping my agonized brow.
As I arrived at the window I was startled by the sudden appearance of a shadow, accompanied by a scuffing sound immediately outside. A hand appeared near the top of the window, curling around the stone surround to grip with white-knuckled fingers. Then a booted foot slid onto the sill beneath. A moment later a figure filled my vision, blotting out the sun.
I stepped back, alarmed, before recognizing the visitor. ‘Jaktem!’
Jaktem eased his bulk through the window space, dropped to the floor and stood before me, flushed and sweating with effort. ‘Master Cormer, are you all right?’
‘A touch the worse for wear, but otherwise fine, I think. Why? What’s happening? Why this unorthodox entrance?’
‘It’s the only way I could get to you. I’m confined to my chamber. But a narrow cornice runs along the outer wall, linking our two windows. I made good use of it to check on you.’
‘Where is Ilian?’
‘He managed to slip out before we were placed under confinement.’
‘What’s all the hullabaloo outside?’
‘Malibeth’s forces have attacked Feikermun’s quarter in strength. They are at the palace walls. Feikermun was taken completely by surprise by the ferocity of the attack and the numbers thrown against him. He is sorely stretched to defend himself.’
‘By the spirits and devils!’ I pushed past him to the window, my pain forgotten. Sure enough, I could see Feikermun’s beasts on the battlements, firing missiles into the streets below. Several buildings blazed and there was much activity beyond the walls, opposing forces blockading the streets and firing arrows from windows and roofs. All this I took in in a moment. I glanced along the wall as I turned back, half-consciously noting the slender ledge along which Jaktem had clambered. I marvelled at his courage and surefootedness.
‘Is Feikermun in danger?’
‘I don’t know, but I think Malibeth may have used a catapult to smash the outer wall at a second point of attack, to the southeast, and gained at least limited ingress to the palace grounds.’
‘Then it is serious! Jaktem, conceal yourself quickly - behind that chest.’
As he did so I crossed to the door and flung it open. A sentry was positioned outside, barring my way with a halberd. ‘I must see Lord Feikermun.’
The man curled his lip. ‘You will stay here. His Excellency will see you when he chooses.’
‘No. It is important. I have to speak to him.’
He shook his head. ‘When Lord Feikermun chooses.’
He was a column of meat and no brain, and too fearful of his master to disobey orders. ‘Can you get a message to him?’ I asked.
He hesitated. I produced a silver coin and his eyes brightened. ‘Just tell him that I must see him. It is urgent. Tell him,’ - I was suddenly inspired - ‘tell him I have spoken to the woman.’
If that did not arouse Feikermun’s interest I did not know what would. I recalled how unsettled he had been at the revelation when I had first seen Aniba, in his chamber. And again, later, when I had spoken to him about her. But how long might I have to wait until Feikermun agreed to an audience with me? Clearly he was tied up with Malibeth’s assault on the palace. It could be hours.
The sentry pocketed the coin and I turned back, closing the door.
‘I could overpower him, Master Cormer,’ said Jaktem in an undertone, coming from hiding.
‘No. There will be others out there. For now the best course is that you return to your chamber, if you are able, so that no one is aware we have communicated. If I leave here, I will try to find a way of letting you know. Until then, wait and do nothing to endanger yourself. But if you learn anything significant, come here by the ledge again, if you can.’
Jaktem nodded and climbed back on to the windowsill. He waited a few moments, scanning the castle walls, assuring himself that he was unobserved, then eased himself out on to the ledge. I watched him as he inched along t
he wall, marvelling again at his nimbleness, until he disappeared through the window of his own chamber.
I had no clear idea what I was going to do. If Feikermun responded to my summons I did not know what I would say to him. I was still feeble and racked with head-pain, and the notion that I had to safeguard Feikermun when I despised him so utterly - had to contravene a direct order from the Chariness - angered me. I could not be sure of anything, and the only way to find out more was to return to the Citadel of Selph. What were its secrets? What would it yield up to my enquiries now? Could I journey there alone, or did it require Feikermun to guide me, as before? The only thing I was certain of was that I could not re-enter the Citadel without the agency of the gidsha. So I applied myself once more to its ritual preparation. I was not certain whether it was safe to take it again so soon - whether my sanity would be able to bear it - but I pushed these considerations from my mind so that I might concentrate upon the task.
When the gidsha was ready I sat back and took stock. There was no word from Feikermun. Outside the battle raged still. From what I could see it had become a pure exchange of missile-fire, with neither side appearing to have gained the upper hand. But my view was limited. I had no way of knowing how things were going to the southeast where, according to Jaktem, Malibeth had breached the outer wall. Should I take the gidsha now, alone? Here in Dhaout, anything might happen while I was in the Citadel. Feikermun could be slain, the palace fall to Malibeth. What would that mean?
‘Aniba, tell me what I should do.’
She did not appear. Instead there was a loud sound of rushing, beating air; I felt its wind against my skin. Towards one corner of the chamber a figure half-appeared: a youth of androgynous aspect. I had seen him before in a dream. From his back sprouted a pair of gorgeous black-and-crimson wings. They beat wildly and his hands clawed and struck at something unseen. But his face turned towards me, just momentarily, and he spoke: ‘Come. Please come now. We need you.’
And he was gone. I hesitated in a moment of indecision, then took up the gidsha bowl and swallowed a portion of the green mash, about as much as I had taken the first time. I went to the door and opened it. The sentry stood outside.
‘Did you go to Lord Feikermun?’
‘I sent a messenger.’
‘Has there been any reply?’
‘The man returned to report that he had delivered the message to His Excellency.’
‘And was there any word?’
‘None.’
‘Then, should His Excellency come here, please tell him I have gone to seek her. He will understand.’
The sentry tensed. ‘You may not leave.’
‘Do not be alarmed. I will be here in this chamber. Just give Lord Feikermun that message. He may wish to accompany me.’
I closed the door on the baffled man and stood for a while in the centre of the room, absorbed in keen and nervous anticipation. I did not know how long it would take for the drug to begin to work its effects, but I recalled that on the previous occasion Feikermun had made me run. Did the running stimulate the onset of the drug’s effects? Unlike the corridors through which I had pounded with Feikermun and the ape, this chamber did not offer me sufficient space to run, but I began to jog on the spot, slowly at first, a little self-consciously, then, as I found my rhythm, more energetically.
Nothing happened. I ran on, working up a sweat, drawing great draughts of air into my expanding lungs, enjoying the sensation but thinking that perhaps the gidsha was not going to work this time. I watched the stone wall opposite. It was hung with various objects: a rectangle of tapestry, a round wooden targe, the mounted head of a slain doe. I was engrossed by the fine grain of the stone, which I had not noticed before, but which glittered in the subdued light, a million minuscule facets of tiny crystal which I saw now for the first time with
extraordinary clarity.
Then the walls around me were obliterating before my eyes. It didn’t surprise me: it was the most natural thing. They fell apart; the floor dropped from beneath my feet; I rose, passed into the wall, between the myriad particles of stone, into a blackness filled with silent, moving shapes.
Bodies were flying by me in all directions; a rushing wind, the sound of countless beating, flapping wings. The winged people in their scores, stricken-faced, struggling in the air, thrown here, there, unable to help themselves. And I passed through them, avoiding collisions as though I were a ghost. I heard their voices crying out in the darkness, in panic, raised in unison, distorted as they tumbled and twisted, blown by some force they could not comprehend. I moved on, not knowing where I was going or what impelled me.
Then there was stillness.
I was upon the road, the long, long road, and the winged people were held unmoving in the amber air all around. And I was a child, a babe. I heard my cry, and my mother’s sweet song, and the tolling of the bell. I began to walk, so heavy, the body unfamiliar, and far away along the amber road a figure stood, its back to me, gazing out upon a sunset.
It seemed an eternity that I walked; then I stopped and turned and looked back. A man stood upon the steps, in grey, watching me. He was I, Ronbas Dinbig. Watching me, watching me, as I watched him also and knew that he was I and I he. The tears, the beauty of it, stung my eyes. I turned again. I had no choice but to continue on my way.
Sermilio’s face, when at last I stood beside him, was rapt and beautiful as he gazed upon the glory of the sunset. The light stained his skin. He was youth and woman and man and bird and something other. He was Avari, I understood that now, as I understood that all those others who were held in stasis in the air around us were Avari. The Tutelary Spirits, the Companions of the Soul. Perhaps Sermilio spoke into my mind and told me this, or perhaps I intuited it. What I did not know was why.
I spoke as one speaks in a dream, not knowing what I was going to say, yet saying it, and hearing myself saying it, knowing that I could have said nothing else yet thinking that there were other things I might have said.
‘Why do you wait here?’
He raised his arm towards the glorious light. ‘It is the beginning, and the end. It is everything.’
‘Everything?’
‘That which precedes whatever might become. Everything ’
‘But why do you stand here?’
‘The choice is not mine. I am waiting, we are all waiting. ’
‘For what?’
He paused. ‘For the world to come into being.’
‘You called me here.’
‘We needed you. We still need you. But you have not brought what I asked you for.’
‘What was it that I was to bring?’
‘The amber,’ Sermilio said. ‘The Amber of Selph.’
I felt a moment of terrible misgiving. The Amber of Selph. Was this the chunk of amber I had brought with me from Hon-Hiata, that I had purchased earlier from Wirm of Guling Mire, that I had now passed into the hands of Feikermun? The amber that held the cloud of tiny creatures with red and black wings? I stared around me again at the Avari suspended in the strangely toned air, and strove to deny to myself that it could be this that Sermilio referred to.
Sermilio turned and smiled, but his eyes were sorrowful.
‘Is it the rare green amber that you speak of?’ I asked. ‘The amber that holds the winged creatures?’
‘The winged creatures. The Avari.’ He gestured mournfully at the frozen figures. ‘Us. It is we who are trapped within.’
*
Feikermun of Selph had trapped the Avari. He did not know that he had done it, though had he known he would have rejoiced. His probings into the workings of magic had taken him deep into the mysteries hidden within the Citadel of Selph, and there he had stumbled upon the first layers of all potential, the seething immensities that underlie reality, pure, unformed, unchannelled, unconscious thought, Chaos, the immeasurable fathomless stuff of pre-Creation. And there dwelt the Avari, assigned to maintain the order of the world, to ensure that the unlimited power
that existed in the hidden domain of Selph was contained for the protection of all, that the universe might unfold in its proper manner, learning as it grew, as near as possible harmoniously, in balance. The powers of Selph, unleashed without control, would overwhelm it utterly. Forestalling this was the task of the Avari, assigned to them from the beginning of time, for all eternity.
But there also dwelt the Scrin, the Avaris’ immortal foes. They strove to unhinge the balance, disrupt the unfolding and allow Chaos and randomness and ultimately evil to flood Creation, destroying for destruction’s own sake all that had come to be. The conflict between the two had persisted throughout time, but the Scrin, though relentless, had never succeeded in overcoming the Avari, and the unfolding of divine Creation had continued more or less along its natural course.