THE GOD BOX

by Barry B. Longyear

  "There are many realities, Korvas. Yes, we were with them, and no, we weren't. There was and there wasn't a storyteller who spoke of the prophecy of the Hero and the Destroyer."

  "Thank you for clearing up that matter," I said with a look on my face.

  "You're welcome," she said.

  "You are choosing to ignore my sarcasm."

  She smiled patiently. "What do you want to know, Korvas?"

  "Am I the mirror? The guide? Will Tayu find the hero who I will guide to war with Manku?"

  "I thought that was quite clear," said Syndia.

  "I find this all quite improbable."

  "Ah," she laughed, "doubting Ahtma."

  "I am no such thing. I would not have to see the continent twice split. And how do you know—of course. You have strolled through my mind. That's how you know of the Ihtari and Ahtma."

  "True, I have been through your memories, but I knew of Ihtari long before I met you, Korvas." She clasped her hands and placed them gently upon the edge of the table. "You have seen any number of miracles this day, yet you still doubt."

  "I have seen no continent split."

  "You have seen time turned back and changed. Given enough time and shovels, mere men could split a continent. Who but the gods could turn back time?"

  "How did you know about that? I thought I was alone."

  "I told you, I am here to witness miracles." Again she smiled that maddening smile of hers. "And none of us are ever alone."

  I shook my head and pushed back from the table. "All of it can be explained away as magic, confusion, hallucination, and naughty little powders."

  "As I said," continued the priestess, holding out her hands," doubting Ahtma."

  "It would be a different matter if these gods would make themselves clear. I would believe if they would show themselves and do things that were honest and useful."

  "I see," said Syndia as she nodded her head, that sly smile still on her lips, and placed her hands in her lap. "The only gods you will believe in, then, are gods that you can make do what you want. Korvas, don't you see that you have things turned around just a little? The gods do what the gods themselves want to do, just as you do. If you are lucky, perhaps you might be allowed to do a little of what the gods want you to do."

  I pushed my plate away and silently pondered the things Syndia had said. I had come to no conclusions when the door to the room opened and Rosh entered, a strangely cold look in his eyes. "We have fresh horses and they are being saddled and packed now." He reached out his hand and dropped the little leather pouch on the table in front of Syndia. "They were more than satisfied with our four horses in exchange for their seven. However, I fear we will get our money's worth."

  Syndia took the pouch and held it in her hand. "What of Commander Meru?"

  "Nothing. The light from the sky is all gone, revealing the stars; it has been over two hours."

  Syndia nodded at the table. "As soon as you have eaten, we will be going."

  Rosh sat down and reached for the cheese while I turned two curious things over in my mind. Rosh had as much as said that Meru, Icen, and Hara were dead or captured, yet it seemed to have no effect upon either him or Syndia. The other thing might have been a miracle. I had eaten only half of my food, and I was full.

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  We rode through the cold night, and before the frost elves began painting the early dawn sky, we reached a fork in the road. The south fork led to the wayside town of Narvi on the King's Highway. The north fork led into the tall mountain country where lived the Serkers, the Tchakas, and the Omergunts. We headed north and rode for a few miles. Before reaching the settlement of Abunih, we moved off the road into the deep forest to rest. Rosh and Ruuter backtracked to cover our trail.

  I stood next to my horse, observing his breath and mine, rubbing my arms trying to get warm. Syndia walked by me carrying a bundle. "You'd best try and get some rest. You'll need it."

  "Why are we traveling during the night and stopping by day?"

  "It is too cold to stop at night."

  I snorted in disgust. "It's too cold right now."

  "It will warm up soon."

  "Why didn't we stop in that settlement ahead? At least it's civilized."

  "The only thing civilized about Abunih is that a number of the residents think money is something for which it is worth killing and dying." She took a new hold on her bundle. "We won't be stopping there. Get some rest."

  There was only a little fire, but I cuddled as close as I could to it without giving Heteris her revenge by setting me aflame. Syndia was across the fire from me and Tayu was on my left. For some perverse reason, this night Tayu didn't want to sleep on my arm. I looked at Syndia, and she pulled up her blanket and rolled over. I looked at Rosh, and he pulled up his blanket and closed his eyes. Once he got off guard I suppose the Omergunt, Ruuter, might be more hospitable, but that would be when I pulled up my blanket and rolled over.

  I had never been more tired. but I couldn't sleep. I stared into the flames, thinking about the Oracle of Heteris. Guided by the Mirror of the Second, the Hero will be found by the Second, who will be chosen by a father's hand, kept by the First, loved by the Mirror, and burned by the Mirror to be gathered by the Smoke.

  I had never had any more trust in meanings of words than I had in horses. If I was the Mirror of Tayu, then I would guide the hero. But what does "guide" mean to gods who seem forever unable to express themselves with precision? The only places I knew really well, and hence the only places in which I felt competent to pose as a guide, were some of the sleazier back streets and alleys of Iskandar. Unless the battle with Manku was going to be in a less fashionable district of Iskandar's tainted tenderloin, I couldn't see what use I would be as a guide.

  I rolled over on my right shoulder and faced the god box. Its honey-and-burnt-sugar finish glowed warmly. I pulled one of the drawers completely out of the case and examined the construction. It was well made, but it was nothing special. A strange spider-shaped symbol had been stamped on the bottom of the drawer, along with a name: Capys of Port Yuba.

  No god had made this. Instead, some cabinetmaker in distant Port Yuba on the west coast of the Empire of Ziven had fashioned it. I lifted the box and was about to replace the drawer when I peered through the opening. For a brief moment I caught sight of Rosh through the opening and was swept away by a flood of strange feelings. Once I had achieved some kind of balance, I again looked through the opening at the sergeant.

  I saw his life pass before me. As a child he entered himself into the Nant Temple for instruction with every intention of finishing his education, entering the Nant Guard, and going on to take his vows, becoming a priest. Shortly after his eighteenth birthday he paused upon the steps of the Nant Temple to watch the changing of the Heterin Guard in front of their temple on the opposite side of the square.

  There was a crowd that day, the square filled with men, women, and children dressed in their brightest colors, as many as a third of them waving flags of red, gold, and black. The Heterin Guard was decked out in golden robes and polished halberds, for the bloody horror Tretia, First Priestess, was to personally conduct the changing of the guard from a specially constructed platform before the square's massive water fountain. This was the Hrontine, a special holiday in honor of the deity Hrontii, the asexual creature admired by the Heterins. Troupes of musicians filled the air with regal marches for it was rumored that even the King would attend the ceremony. Most persons were in the square to witness the grand spectacle of the Hrontine. A few were there to make trouble.

  The priestess Tretia had no sooner taken her position on the platform than catcalls and hoots began coming from different places within the crowd. Several of those doing the heckling were quickly pounded to the pavement by the fists of the faithful, but others had time to launch rocks and bricks at her divine magnificence. T
he full Heterin Guard was turned out with drawn swords and they began indiscriminately to hack through the crowd.

  Young Rosh's first instinct was to flee to the safety of the Nant Temple, but an elderly woman had been knocked down and a man was struggling to help her to her feet. In the panic and confusion, she was being trampled and kicked to death. Rosh bullied his way to her and, with the help of the older man, they had almost gotten her to her feet when a guard swung a ceremonial halberd at them, catching the old woman in the neck and killing her. The older man exploded in rage, drew his knife, and flew at the guard. Just in time the guard managed to draw his pistol and blow a hole in the man's chest.

  In a rage of his own, Rosh saw the guard fall backward from the force of the man's momentum. The lad rushed over, picked up the man's knife, and plunged it through the guard's left temple. For a moment everything became still as what he had done announced itself. Then the lad sprang to his feet and ran from the square, the guard's ghost hot on his heels.

  First the young Rosh fled to the Mystic Mountains. He lived for awhile among the bloodthirsty Tchakas, then he traveled throughout the mountains, ending eventually in the huge city of Port Vey, five hundred miles northeast of Kienosos.

  In Vey he signed on a ship and spent the next eleven years in one navy or army after another. Then at the age of twenty-nine he stepped off of a ship in the port of Iskandar and returned to the Nant Temple. After much consideration, the clergy of the temple decided to take Rosh into the Nant Guard. There he served with quiet distinction until the present, burdened by the knowledge that he could never take his vows and become a priest.

  A priest must be rigorously honest, and Rosh could not afford honesty. Killing the Heterin guard on that holiday so long before was just one of the things he neglected to tell the temple priests prior to them considering his entrance to the guard.

  I lowered the god box and replaced the drawer as I leaned back my head and listened to the gentle wind. I would not turn him in, I knew, for I remembered all too clearly that Hrontine so many years ago. When the thing was over, they said a thousand heads were piked around the circle surrounding the temples and the King's palace. That was where I found my own father's head. He had been the older man whose knife Rosh had used to kill the Heterin guard. Regardless of what the Nant priesthood might judge Rosh's killing of that guard to be, it seemed an awfully lot like justice to me.

  Between Rosh, myself, the late priestess Ahjrah, and my alleged twin Tayu, separately and in congress, we had quite a score to settle with first priests and priestesses of the Heterin faith. After a considerable struggle against doing so, I withdrew the drawer again and looked through the opening at Tayu. The child was indeed my twin brother. Under the care and guidance of Ahjrah, upon his seventh birthday he was shown the scriptures and the prophecy. She also told him that he was the Second of the prophecy. He was asked and Tayu willingly submitted to what had to be done.

  Employing spells drawn from the combined Books of Fayn, Tayu was placed into the deepest of deep sleeps and his form was reduced to the size of a pea. Ahjrah then placed my brother into a golden locket where he continued to sleep and where it was always his seventh birthday. He had been made whole again for this mission into the Mystic. Once he had chosen me for his new guardian, the old priestess could finally let go, and she died.

  I looked through the opening at Syndia, and I could see no one there. I tried several times, and checked with my own eyes that her sleeping form was across the fire from me. But when I looked through the special window of my god box, there was no one there.

  I replaced the drawer and pondered. I didn't know how I felt about much of anything, except that outrageous coincidence seemed to be dogging my heels. A drawer in the god box opened and I looked in to find a slip of paper. It said: "There are no coincidences."

  As I tried to sleep, I found the thought both comforting and troubling.

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  By early afternoon we were rested and there had been no sight of Captain Shadows. We ate, packed the horses, and headed north through Abunih. As our tiny caravan moved through the main street and only road, I watched the locals. There were enough toughs, thieves, and killers to man half the ocean of Han's entire pirate fleet. Here and there would be an exile clad in rags of shame, and there were renegade Dagas, an outcast Serker, and outcasts from other tribes I didn't recognize.

  Sidewalk hawkers and street urchins filled the air with lies, while a cloying heavy smell of incense was everywhere. At the north edge of town was a pass, and next to the road was a poorly maintained shrine which turned out to be the source of the incense.

  An ancient in a ragged blue robe knelt before the shrine and added an orange stick to the fire that smoldered deep within the stone-and-mortar monument. As Syndia came abreast of the shrine, she turned in her saddle and called to the rest of us, "We stop here."

  As we pulled up our horses and dismounted, the man in the blue robe stood and walked toward us. Syndia handed him her reins and a coin and headed for the shrine. As he gathered the reins from the others, I removed a drawer from the god box and looked at the man in the blue robe. Almost immediately I jerked back my head and replaced the drawer. He was a priest of the Mankua faith!

  But he couldn't be. All of the Mankuas had been murdered when the temple was destroyed, or so went the story. I caught only a glimpse of his life, but he had been arrested and tortured by Pherris, the previous First Priest of the Heterin faith, the same fiend who had executed Ahjrah's father.

  A sudden thought crossed my mind about the murder of Ahjrah's mother while she was still pregnant with Ahjrah. I could only guess at the spells and black forces that must have been used to keep her breathing until Ahjrah, called the First, had been born. If mother and child had died, then the prophecy could not be fulfilled and the Destroyer would make the world and all existence as dust. Bald mythology or not, it certainly must have given some believer an interest in seeing that Ahjrah never breathed her first breath. Pherris again? Likely.

  I handed the old man my reins and tried to read his cloudy eyes. "Greetings to you, brother," I said to him.

  "Take no offense, but all of my brothers are dead, stranger."

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to dilute your resentment." I held out my hand toward his garb. "I thought this might be the robe of a Mankua priest. I haven't seen one since I was a child."

  "The Mankua temple is destroyed, the Mankua faith only a memory, the Mankua priesthood and their followers all dead," he stated flatly.

  "You look remarkably fit for a dead man." He seemed to stare at me with blank eyes, which is when I realized that he was blind. "I am Korvas, recently of Iskandar. What is your name?"

  The old man dropped all of the reins he was holding.

  The horses started, but he snapped his fingers and the horses immediately calmed and gathered next to him. He placed his gnarled hands upon my cheeks and pulled my face close to his. His hands were very strong, as was his breath. "So," he said, then he released me.

  "So?"

  "You who call yourself Korvas, are the Guide." He grabbed my arm with his wiry claw of a right hand. "Is the Warrior here? Will the battle take place here?"

  "No. We haven't tracked down any Hero yet—"

  "Then the Child is with you?" He faced toward the shrine, still holding onto my arm. "Is he here?"

  "Do you mean the Second?"

  "Yes, yes."

  I pulled the man's hand from my arm. "I suppose so."

  There were tears in the old man's eyes. "It will come! I will be here, and it will come!"

  I looked past the old man's shoulder at the shrine. "To whom is this shrine dedicated, old fellow?"

  "Sabis."

  "Who is Sabis?"

  "I am. That is my name." The old man's face grinned, displaying the stumps of the few teeth that remained in his mouth. "This shrin
e is dedicated to Manku, the Destroyer."

  I looked up and saw Syndia, Rosh, and Tayu praying at the shrine while Ruuter looked on. Why would they be praying to the Destroyer? I pulled a drawer from the god box and looked through the opening at the three praying at the Shrine. Syndia was still not there. Rosh and Tayu were committing themselves to whatever the results of the contest might be. Lifting the box a bit, I looked at the shrine itself.

  There seemed to be endless rows of teeth, serpent coils, slime, ooze, blood, fire, and storm. Beneath it all, filling the underworld, I saw ancient instruments, scrolls, and endless shelves and piles of volumes. Then I saw a face above a vast field of skeletons. The face was strong, but it possessed compassion, which was more than I could say for the Mankua priest Sabis, the keeper of Manku's shrine. Sabis carried more hate within him than I thought was possible. It gave me a strange feeling to know this, and to know the degree of pain it caused the old man.