The Unwaba Revelations

by Samit Basu

  Duck IV.

  A golem-drawn chariot sped through curling, twisting, miraculously smooth vaman tunnels. On it sat the renowned Bhumi Silverlode captain, Mor Kotpo, a Rainbow Council member, and two other vamans of such impressive muscular development that their skins had grown completely turgid, rendering them incapable of displaying any facial expression at all. As Mor congratulated everyone on how well the ambush had been planned and executed and his men sat in stone-like silence, no doubt concealing their ecstasy with great difficulty, Orange sank back into his seat, closed his eyes and permitted himself a relaxed moment. Around him were many fabulous examples of the beauty of the underworld – myriad-hued rock-walls, sculpted stalactites, incredible water-etchings – but he showed no sign of interest as they passed by

  Orange the shapeshifter was thoroughly sick of all things subterranean. He wanted to go home.

  It wasn’t just that he missed the towering spires and cheery mass-murderers of Kol; there was just so much work to be done. A new Rainbow Council had to be created, and he didn’t know if there were five shapeshifters in Kol capable of stepping up and coming even close to replacing his four best friends, or Red, the unreliable but incredibly talented girl they’d lost to the wild. And he needed to tell Violet everything he had seen in the world of vamans. So many questions would be answered, so many mysteries explained. There was just so much even the Rainbow Council didn’t know.

  Orange had no idea how long he’d been underground, or what had happened in the world outside. Had the ravians appeared again? Had Dark Lord Kirin succumbed to his advisers and started a war? Were Asvin, Maya and Red even alive? And where had the Civilian’s invisible adviser gone? These and hundreds of other questions had haunted Orange since the day he’d stepped past the secret gates of the vaman world, as he’d lied, tricked and enchanted his way beyond veil after veil of secrecy, and entered a world whose very unexpectedness was mind-numbing, even for him. A world where precious metals were overabundant and information and ideas were currency, where there was so much to learn and discover and take back to Kol that time spent trying to dig out news of the sunworld had seemed like time wasted.

  Until he’d come to Bhumi, Orange had never realized how much living in Kol had trapped him into taking an essentially human view of the world – that other two-legged races were simply humans with special tricks attached. He’d known that only members of one particular vaman tribe were allowed to enter the sunworld, and that its customs were in all probability constructed to help sunworlders assume they knew all about vamans and what boxes they fitted in – thus making vamans less threatening. That tribe, he now understood, was the one that stuck most closely to a regressive, medieval way of life. In Bhumi, he’d seen so many different kinds of vamans – beardless vamans, pretty, strangely elfin vamans, fair vamans, Xi’en vamans, blue vamans, living in what seemed like harmony in a society as complex and rich in as Kol – that he’d felt shamed and small.

  He’d thought Gaam Vatpo was unusual, and a step forward for vamans as a people, not realizing that Gaam had just been a normal vaman who’d had more trouble than his fellow tribe members pretending to be old-fashioned. Orange knew the Chief Civilian thought vamans of tribes other than Gaam’s weren’t allowed to come up to the sunworld because the vaman king was afraid of his empire being corrupted by the influx of new ideas. He also knew, now, the rather frightening truth – it was far more likely that vamans didn’t go up to the surface simply because humans could not be allowed to discover what they’d accomplished.

  A lot of the other things he’d discovered, though, had made him feel extremely satisfied with himself. He’d explored the vamans’ vast maze of caverns filled with wonders, seen how far they’d progressed in the sciences, and realized that they’d let Kol advance by showing and selling them machines, tools and techniques that had become outdated underground – just as efficiently as the Rainbow Council had guided Kol politically for a few centuries.

  The Rainbow Council had often wondered why human progress in the agricultural sciences had always lagged so far behind fields vamans also took an interest in – medicine, manufacture, construction, printing, transportation – when human scientists appeared to be making their own discoveries. Now Orange knew.

  As the chariot made its way through the outer walls of Bhumi, Orange sighed deeply, sat up, eyes wide, trying to absorb every possible sight, smell and sound, every cunningly created piece of this subterranean metropolis. He felt a twinge of sadness, knowing it was his last day and he would never return. Even if he did succeed in finding and helping to destroy Asroye, he would have to return to Kol and stay there. But he’d never forget his time among the vamans, and all he’d experienced. While he’d wasted no time in getting to the business of seeking out the Rebel Union’s leaders and leading them into a trap, his senses could not have helped being assaulted and astounded by the wonders of Bhumi. He’d seen strange and wonderful beasts, eaten bizarrely delicious food that had thrilled his taste-buds and ruined his stomach, gazed in awe at works of art and engineering even his mind had difficulty ingesting, seen, tried, and sensibly abandoned clothes that even Kol was not ready for yet. For a lonely, dangerous quest to save the world, he’d had a completely unreasonable amount of fun. But there was only so much a mind could take, even a mind like his. He’d seen the future, and it was underground. He’d seen quite enough.

  After two hours of no conversation and heavy traffic, Orange found himself being marched into the inner chambers of the Core House, the gigantic, towering palace in the heart of the city that made every building in Kol look like a kennel. Flanked by a phalanx of black-clad, golden-helmeted vamans carrying fire-pipes, he walked over floors that looked like lava-flows and floors that looked like glaciers, taking in every detail; the friezes on the ceilings, the beautiful, cold-eyed palace maids, the mechanical beasts that played in the hexagonal, diamond-bordered courtyards, the sculpted war-golems that stood, massive and terrifying, at every gate. Mor Kotpo marched in front, smiling and saluting as vaman nobles of various shapes, sizes, fashions and degrees of decoration watched the procession pass, but stopping for no one.

  Finally they came to a shining silver door. The palace guards stopped in unison and thumped their fire-pipes on the ground. At a signal from Mor, Orange walked forward, and followed Mor through the door, into the vaman king’s hall.

  And lurched forward, falling on to the floor, his mind spinning and gut churning. For it seemed to him that he had just fallen off the world. The king’s hall was vast and long, and the floor, ceiling and walls were all cunningly painted to represent an exact likeness of the sky. Great pillars ran down the hall from the entrance to the vaman king’s throne, but these too were painted to blend in, to make any newcomer believe that he was suspended in mid-air. Strange clouds floated through the hall, and paintings on the floor contrived with some form of magic to shift and swirl and look like a cloud-floor, with gaps even revealing a likeness of the ground far below.

  ‘Approach, Gaam Vatpo,’ called a quavery voice.

  Orange sprang to his feet and looked around, at corners and pillars gradually defining themselves as his keen eyes grew accustomed to his surroundings. He walked across the hall, slowly, stopping only at when his feet told him there were steps ahead, leading up to a dais where four figures sat side by side in the painted sky.

  And so it came to pass that Orange the shapeshifter was the first person not of vaman blood to cast eyes on the rulers of Bhumi; Nor Rispo, regal, strong, formidable, clad in mail dark as obsidian, Yin Stinpula, beautiful as a katana, startlingly young, sharp-eyed, simply clad in a blue tunic, Kuin Lizpula, with her shock of purple hair and her ornate purple gown, matronly, charming, immediately loveable, and Flaad Nagpo, white-bearded, white-robed, venerable, deep blue eyes twinkling below bushy, well-combed brows.

  ‘We are the vaman king,’ said Yin. ‘And we understand you deserve our thanks, Gaam Vatpo.’

  Orange bowed low. ‘It was my duty, your m
ajesties. And there is much more to do.’

  ‘Verily, noble Gaam –‘

  ‘Can we do this quickly, without the fancy nancy-boy talk? We need to decide what to do with the Slimy Ones next, and I need to go to the toilet,’ said Flaad.

  ‘What, again?’ asked Kuin. Nor guffawed unpleasantly.

  ‘Oh, all right, then,’ said Yin. ‘Right. Gaam. This is a magic-proof enchanted hall, right? Very strong wards all over the place. You can’t do magic here. Don’t bother trying.’

  ‘I cannot use magic anywhere, your majesty. I do not know how.’

  ‘Can we just kill him and be done with it? I really need to go,’ said Flaad.

  ‘We’re not killing him, Flaad. We’re killing the Slimy Ones.’

  ‘Oh, right, right. Good. Carry on, then.’

  ‘You should also know,’ said Yin, ‘that any attempt to attack us in this hall will call out big golems who can squash you like a bug before you manage to touch us. Even if you can jump very fast.’

  ‘But I would never attack you, your Majesty. I trust I have no need to prove my loyalty.’

  ‘That is true. Poor boy just helped us catch those nasty Rebel Union types, and now you’re scaring him. If you upset him further, he probably won’t even tell us who he really is,’ said Kuin reproachfully, smiling encouragingly at Orange.

  Orange tried to teleport. He couldn’t. He tried to transform into a bee. He couldn’t. He considered attacking the vamans, but decided against it.

  ‘I am Gaam Vatpo, your majesties. I do not understand why you speak in riddles.’

  ‘Liar,’ said Nor, evidently a vaman of few words and much deadliness.

  ‘Look, we didn’t get to be vaman king by being stupid, right? We know Gaam’s dead. His body was found. You must have been the one who stole it in Kol,’ said Yin.

  ‘I was miraculously revived,’ pleaded Orange, trying to look as earnest as possible, though he knew the game was up.

  ‘My dear boy, don’t be silly. We’ve watched you snooping around since you left the sunworld. We know you can change shapes. That means you’re a rakshas, or a powerful spellbinder. We know you don’t mean us any harm directly, because you went after the Rebel Union right away – which is why we let you live,’ said Kuin.

  ‘But now he’s gotten rid of them for us, so we kill him! I knew I was right!’ cried Flaad, tugging at his regal white beard in a most undignified manner.

  ‘Stop it, Flaad,’ said Yin. ‘You’re making him nervous.’

  ‘Spoilsport,’ said Flaad, sitting back with a smile. ‘Well, Mister Magician? Who are you, and what do you want? We know you don’t work for the Civilian, because we asked her and she said you didn’t. And that we could kill you if we wanted – she really has enough to worry about, poor girl.’

  Orange said nothing. He just looked from one of the vamans to another, dumbstruck. No one had ever made him feel stupid before.

  ‘We think you’re one of those secret guardians of Kol we’ve always wanted to meet,’ said Kuin. ‘We think you’re one of those mysterious creatures who protected the palace when the ravians attacked Kol – before the war started, I mean – and you’ve been looking for the ravians ever since.’

  Before the war started? wondered Orange, wishing again he had any idea what was happening in the world above the ground. How long had it been?

  ‘Why did you come here to get the Rebel Union, though? They were never that important,’ said Yin.

  ‘Revenge,’ said Nor.

  ‘For what? The attack on the palace? Or the Cravenstick Massacre?’

  ‘Cravenstick,’ said Orange, feeling naked, exposed and about six years old. His respect for the rulers of Bhumi rose even further when he saw that none of them looked even remotely triumphant or mocking at his admission of defeat.

  ‘My dearest friends died there,’ he said. ‘And I will not rest until I have driven the ravians from the face of the earth. For myself, for my friends’ spirits, and for Kol.’

  ‘What is your name?’ asked Yin, her voice now low and gentle.

  ‘I have none,’ said Orange. ‘I am just a servant of Kol, though the Civilian does not even know of me.’

  ‘And I beg of you,’ he said, kneeling, ‘let me go. I am strong, and wise, and skilled in strategy and combat. I will be a powerful weapon against the ravians, and thus a powerful ally.’

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ said Flaad. ‘But letting you go is out of the question. You see, the first rule of entering vaman territory if you’re not a vaman and want to stay alive is this: You don’t. There are some rules that are sacred to all vamans, even degenerates like us.’

  ‘However, and this is a very big however,’ said Kuin, ‘we’ll let you live, if you work for us. Answer, truthfully, all our questions about the ravians, Kol, and even the vamans, as the sunworld sees them. Stay here in Bhumi as an honorary vaman, and lead us to Asroye and victory.’

  ‘I wish I could,’ said Orange. ‘But I may only serve Kol. That is all I live for.’

  ‘Bhumi is Kol’s greatest and most generous ally. By working for us, and helping us break the ravians, you get us what we want, and you get to keep your vows.’

  ‘I only serve the throne of Kol.’

  ‘But we own the throne of Kol,’ said Yin, ‘we just let humans run it because we’re lovely people. Does that solve your problem?’

  ‘Yes, it does,’ said Orange. ‘I am willing to swear allegiance to you, if you so choose. Your generosity has been astounding, and I apologize for my previous stubbornness.’

  ‘And now he wants to agree with us and run off as soon as he can, telling himself his loyalty to Kol makes betraying us acceptable behaviour,’ said Yin, shaking her head.

  ‘I would not dream of doing anything of the sort,’ said Orange.

  ‘Liar,’ said Nor.

  ‘We could put him in magic-proof padlocks and keep him under constant surveillance,’ suggested Yin.

  ‘I would be powerless then, and unable to help you. And you wouldn’t believe any information I gave you, because you couldn’t trust me if I were an unwilling captive. The only way out of this, your majesties, is to trust me and let me go. We both want the same things, but my vows prevent my working for you.’

  ‘You see, my friend,’ said Kuin, ‘if you’d come to us and confided in us before wandering around our lands, we might have put our trust in you.’

  ‘But you didn’t. And we caught you,’ said Flaad.

  ‘And it would be very bad business sense to let a resource like you slip out of our hands.’

  ‘Kill me, then,’ said Orange. ‘If you think that is the right thing to do.’

  ‘But we know it isn’t. Will you help us find Asroye, at least? We really don’t want to kill you, or even harm you,’ said Kuin. ‘Here’s an idea; you find Asroye for us, letting us keep your magical powers locked up so you don’t run away. You help Kol, and you don’t have to tell us any of your precious secrets.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ said Orange. ‘Without my powers, I would just be another vaman. If I knew how to find Asroye, I would not be here at all. The only way I can be of assistance to you is in Kol, with my powers and my associates, using my powers to help drive the ravians away. Why can’t you see this? The Civilian is defenceless if I am not in Kol. The ravians have destroyed almost everyone in my order. I know the Civilian does not need to be defended against you – she keeps things the way you want them, and you could destroy Kol in a week if you wanted – but every day of my absence puts her in grave danger. Without the Civilian, Kol will fall. By keeping me prisoner, or killing me, you doom your greatest ally.’

  ‘Still can’t let you go,’ said Yin. ‘You’ve seen too much. You’re too loyal to Kol. Kol gets our secrets, we lose unimaginable sums of money. I know it sounds really heartless. But you can’t be nice if you’re trying to run a kingdom.’

  ‘I will not reveal anything I saw here, just as I would not reveal Kol’s secrets to you. I have kept secret
s for centuries – it is what I do best. If you let me go, I will keep the Civilian safe, and find Asroye for you without compromising either Bhumi or Kol, I swear it.’

  ‘Persuasive lad, isn’t he?’ said Kuin. ‘Should we trust him?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Yin. ‘I know it breaks all the rules, but I think these are times that call for a little rule-breaking.’

  ‘Flaad?’

  ‘I’ve been wanting to kill him for a while. Still do. Bloody waste of time. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a piss.’ The old vaman half-ran out through a side door.

  ‘Nor?’

  ‘Too risky. Sorry.’

  Kuin Lizpona looked at Orange and sighed sadly.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure you cannot agree to our terms?’ she asked.

  ‘I wish I could,’ he said. ‘But I know what would be best for Kol, and your terms are not. My vows are all that distinguish me from rakshases. But thank you for trying to find a solution.’

  ‘You have still not voted, Kuin,’ Yin pointed out.

  Kuin said nothing. She made an almost imperceptible movement with her fingers. Mor Kotpo stepped forward, drawing his shortsword. ‘Thank you for everything, sir,’ he whispered in Orange’s ear. ‘We won’t forget you.’

  Orange felt a sharp pain behind his ear, and then nothing.

  Book Five

  Chapter One

  The Dark Lord stood alone on the highest balcony in the Dark Tower, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun set over the Mountains of Shadow. His black robes, like the black-dragon-on-red banners above him, fluttered and billowed in the wind. His bare arms were striated with new scars, with his strange black dragon-skin marks meandering over his skin like drunken tattoos. Far below, columns of asurs performed battle exercises, dug trenches and built new fortifications, and snatches of lusty song floated upwards from the evening revels in the Skuan quarter. Up on Kirin’s balcony, there was no sign of merriment. The wind gusting across Izakar’s battlements was cold, but his face was colder.