Black Kath's Daughter

by Richard Parks

  CHAPTER 5

  "I know my wants, but I require counselors, nobility, clergy, and learned folk of all description to reveal my needs. I tend to trust what I want more than what I need."

  — Bruga X of Borasur, Called The Deliberate

  The next few days were a blur to Marta. She felt groggy and out of sorts as if she'd both slept too long and woken too early. She finished picking the apples for want of something else to do. On the third day, with nothing left to do and her mother still not returned, Marta decided to take a walk. She was at the cave's mouth before she even realized where she was going.

  The first entrance was still sealed, as she'd left it.

  What if he didn't find the other way out?

  Possible. It wasn't immediately obvious and he'd had no torch. She knew she'd given him a chance to escape, but that's all it was and it might not have been enough. Marta wanted to see for herself. She` didn't know why, except perhaps to make certain that Laras's life wasn't on her head.

  It wouldn't be my fault.

  But it would be, she understood without question, her responsibility. Marta's wasn't sure which was worse. Marta hiked around to the far side of the hill. The melting snow had made the ground muddy in spots; she picked her way up the hillside carefully until it was more rock than dirt. Even then she had to take care; some of the stones were wet and slippery. There was a gnarled old juniper clinging to the hillside where the cavern opened; Marta used a branch to pull herself up the last few feet. She noted, almost without thinking, that the old tree was fairly solid, despite its age and twisted condition, and the fact that it grew on little more than a pocket of earth left in a hollow in the rocks.

  Marta wondered what her mother would say about the tree. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps something along the lines of "life wants to live." Sometimes matters were simpler than she tended to credit them. Marta wondered if her encounter with Laras was one such. Somehow she didn't think so. She didn't really believe that he was dead. She didn't even believe she had seen the last of him. She did wonder what it all meant, if anything.

  Marta peered into the cave, but it was hard to see. The change from the bright outside to the gloomy cavern made it hard to focus. Marta stepped just inside and waited for her eyes to adjust.

  "Laras?"

  Her voice echoed back to her from the far side of the cavern. She heard nothing else but the distant splash of water, and the occasional single drips from the stalactites above. Her eyes were better accustomed to the gloom, and there was a good deal of light streaming in from the outside now; Marta could even make out a faint glow from the high end of the far tunnel. If Laras were still here she would see him or, more surely, hear him.

  He got out.

  Marta felt a little relief, even though it was only what she'd expected. Yet sometimes she thought it quite pleasant to receive what she expected; so often that didn't happen at all. Marta turned to leave; she felt no compulsion to linger in that cold damp place. Something on top of the stalagmite summit near the entrance caught her eye, and Marta got her first good look at the Shrine.

  The statue was to Amaet in Judgment, with the Axe and Apple Blossom in opposite hands. Despite her surprise and wariness—Black Kath's warnings had not gone unheeded—Marta couldn't help but admire the artistry she saw there. The statue was, there was no other word, exquisite.

  "Who built this?" she asked, softly.

  ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO KNOW? THERE'S A PRICE.

  Marta looked around her, saw nothing that she had not already seen. "Who's here?"

  DO YOU REALLY NEED TO ASK?

  Marta did not. She looked at the statue of Amaet set in that deep dark place and she knew. Marta took a deep, slow breath and let it out. It turned to mist in the cold dark air.

  "Amaet. You are the Power called Amaet."

  YOU MAY ADDRESS ME AS 'GODDESS.'

  Marta shook her head. "No I may not. You are a Power, not a goddess."

  I COULD BE. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS WORSHIP ME.

  "I cannot."

  Amaet appeared then. She seemed a rather ordinary, if beautiful, young woman only a bit older than Marta herself. The blue-white glow that surrounded her did seem to set her off a bit, though, from anything to do with the word “ordinary.”

  I SEE THAT OUR RELATIONSHIP IS GOING TO BE A COMPLICATED ONE.

  "As it was with my mother?" Marta asked.

  Amaet smiled then. It was all Marta could do to keep from looking away. Come to that, it was all Marta could do to keep from throwing herself on her knees and bowing to the splendid creature before her. All that saved her was her mother's warning, and the certain knowledge that, if she did as she wanted to do, she would be lost.

  YOU WANT ME TO EXPLAIN. CLEVER. NO, I DON'T THINK I WILL INCREASE YOUR DEBT JUST YET. YET YOU MAY KNOW WHO MADE THE SHRINE, IF YOU CHOOSE.

  Marta frowned. "You said there was a price."

  CERTAINLY. BUT I DID NOT SAY YOUR DEBT WOULD BE TO ME. MY LANGUAGE SKILLS ARE RUSTY, FOR ALL THAT I SEEM TO BE USING THEM A BIT LATELY. PERHAPS "COST” IS THE MORE CORRECT TERM? YES. THE KNOWLEDGE WILL COST YOU. HOW MUCH? I DON'T KNOW.

  Now Marta smiled. "You have limits."

  OF COURSE I DO, AS DOUBTLESS YOUR IRASCIBLE DAM HAS TOLD YOU. DO YOU, CHILD? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THEY ARE? I DOUBT IT.

  There was a great deal Marta didn't understand, but she knew a challenge when she heard one. "How can I find the answer to the shrine?"

  GO DOWN TO THE RIVER IN THE BOTTOM OF THIS CAVERN, BUT DO NOT TOUCH THE WATER. WAIT A WHILE. THE ANSWER WILL APPEAR.

  Marta looked down at the river, but she went no closer. She did want the answer. Yet not so much that she was willing to go blindly to get it. She remembered what Black Kath had said about the Powers more than once: that they were not neutral in the affairs of the world, that they had interests and biases and deep passions. That they were very much like human beings in that regard and this more than anything was what made them so dangerous and unpredictable. "I'm sorry, Amaet. I...I do not trust you. I can not."

  Marta braced herself, and found her hands balling into fists, her heart racing. Yet Amaet's reaction was simply to smile wider, and even more radiantly than before. Marta felt an odd flutter at the pit of her stomach and, for a moment, all she could think was how beautiful the Power called Amaet was. It took her a moment to push the thought aside so she could concentrate on what Amaet was saying.

  YOU ARE WISE, AND THAT'S SELDOM A CAUSE FOR REGRET. WHILE I SELDOM HAVE NEED TO LIE, I CERTAINLY CAN IF IT SUITS ME. HAVE I? THE ANSWER TO THAT IS ALSO DOWN BY THE RIVER. SEEK IT OR NOT.

  Marta shrugged. Amaet had summed the situation very well and, try as she might, Marta could not find a flaw in what she had said. And Marta did want the answer. She was partway down the stalagmite before she was even aware that she had made her decision.

  I don't feel very wise.

  Climbing down the stalagmite was both easier and harder than Marta expected. Easier, because the sunlight flooding in past the broken stone reached far enough to light the way almost adequately. Harder, because the pull of the earth itself seemed intent on helping her climb down, even when she didn't want or need any help. She almost slipped more than once, each time at a point where the bottom of the stalagmite and the cavern floor beyond were entirely too far away. When she was finally down on the slope that passed for the cave's floor Marta had to take a few moments to catch her breath and wait for her heart to stop beating quite so hard.

  When she was more rested she looked at the river again. It was pretty much what it appeared to be from the top of the stalagmite, a dark flow like liquid obsidian weaving its way through a forest of stalagmites at the far end of the cave before straightening out to go slow and deep toward the opposite end and disappear further underground. She walked slowly down to the water, but not too close. The rocks looked slippery and Marta wasn't in the mood for a cold bath.

  "I don't see any answers, Amaet," she said aloud.

  YOU WILL. IF YOU DO AS
I SAID.

  Marta reddened. She'd forgotten about the “wait” part of her instructions. Not too surprising; Marta knew her patience mostly by the lack of it. She didn't call upon it any more than needed. And what did 'wait' mean to an immortal Power anyway? A few minutes? A year? A lifetime? Marta sighed gustily and watched the river. Nothing happened for a long time. Marta was beginning to think nothing would happen, and Amaet was just having an odd joke at her expense. She hadn't yet lost her fear of Amaet; Marta wondered if she ever would. That didn't stop Marta from being annoyed and she was about to tell Amaet the same when she finally did notice something in the water. Something that moved.

  Fish?

  At least, Marta thought they were fish. They were small, and white, and there was more than one of them. How many? Marta wasn't sure at first, then decided there were two. Just like the two eyes watching her from the water.

  Marta stared. There were eyes in the water, she was sure of it. Red eyes, just below the surface and back a bit from the two white fish. Only they weren't fish, were they? Hands. Small, bony hands.

  I THINK ANOTHER FOOT CLOSER WOULD DO IT. SHE DOESN'T LIKE COMING OUT OF THE WATER, BUT SHE'S VERY HUNGRY.

  Marta felt a cold spot in her stomach as if she'd swallowed a stone, and she quickly moved a step back.

  "What is that thing??"

  A CRAJA. IT'S A SORT OF GHOST...WELL, REVENANT REALLY.

  "You mean it's dead?"

  IS THERE ANOTHER MEANING OF 'GHOST' I'M NOT FAMILIAR WITH?

  Marta reddened. "Has that thing been there all along?"

  NOT ALWAYS. NOR WAS SHE A “THING.” HER NAME WAS KESSA.

  Marta finally understood. "She's the one who built the shrine!"

  CLEVER GIRL. IF A BIT SLOW.

  Marta didn't have to look to know that Amaet was smiling again. Marta imagined it was a rather unpleasant smile.

  "And this is why you wanted me to come here, to feed me to your pet? Is that your price to settle the Debt?"

  Amaet laughed, and the stalactites overhead hummed in ominous harmony. IF IT WAS, YOU'D BE CRAJA FOOD AND NO ARGUMENT. I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND JUST HOW GREAT THE DEBT IS.

  Marta was beginning to think Amaet was right. She didn't understand a great deal, but she was going to learn. If she lived long enough. Whether she would or not remained to be seen.

  "What now?" Marta asked.

  GO TO THE WATER IF YOU WANT TO DEVOURED. LEAVE IF YOU DO NOT.

  For several long moments Marta did neither, though she could certainly see the sense in leaving. "How did she wind up like this?"

  WHAT BUSINESS IS THAT OF YOURS?

  "She might have snapped me up like a minnow. I think that gives me the right of some curiosity."

  Amaet didn't say anything for a while. Marta felt the silence weighing on her from behind, as if it were some hungry thing itself, slipping up on her with stealthy tread through the gloom of that deep place. Marta wanted to look at Amaet, to keep her in sight as she would anyone whose motives and actions were suspect, but to do that she'd have to look away from the terrible, pitiful gaze coming from the creature in the water. Marta was very reluctant to do that.

  YOU'RE A STRANGE ONE, MARTA.

  Now Marta did look at Amaet, for a moment. It was easy. Amaet was standing just a few feet behind her. At first she'd been on top of the stalagmite, and now she wasn't. Marta wasn't surprised at all. "How so?" she asked, making sure that the craja was still where it had been. It wasn't. It had slipped a foot or so closer, but that was all. Marta eyed the creature warily.

  YOUR FIRST FACE TO FACE MEETING WITH A POWER, AND YOU BARELY BLINK! YOU MEET A CREATURE THAT DEVOURS THE LIVING TO KEEP ITSELF CLINGING TO THE MEMORY OF LIFE, AND RATHER THAN FLEEING IN HORROR LIKE A SENSIBLE GIRL, YOU LOOK ON IT WITH PITY—DO YOU THINK IT WILL PITY YOU IF CATCHES YOU?

  Marta shook her head. "What it feels has nothing to do with how I feel. And this may be new to me, Amaet, but my mother hasn't left me totally ignorant of you. I knew we would meet sooner of later."

  SO YOU ADDRESS ME WITH A TONE YOU'D USE ON A FISHWIFE?

  Marta almost laughed, but she was able to squelch the urge. It was a close thing as it was; whatever her bravado with Amaet, she at least had some idea of what she was capable of, and didn't want to find out in any more detail than necessary. "Sometimes a person has to speak clearly to be sure she is heard."

  Amaet sighed. I HEAR YOU, MARTA BLACK KATH'S DAUGHTER, BUT I'M NOT SO CERTAIN YOU'VE HEARD ME. STAND UP, KESSA. LET THE GIRL SEE YOU.

  In response, the creature scuttled backward in the water like a crayfish. Marta could almost swear she'd heard it whimper.

  OBEY ME, KESSA. FOR THE SAKE OF WHAT YOU ONCE WERE.

  Amaet walked past Marta, if "walk" was the proper term for gliding a few inches over the mud and stone without touching them. She held out one slim hand and waited. Marta thought she understood something about patience then; she knew without question or thought that Amaet would stand there, waiting, for a year or a dozen, and sooner or later she would get what she wanted. Fortunately for Marta this time it was sooner. The top of the creature's head appeared. There was still hair there. It grew long and black and tangled, but there was more skull than scalp, and the long thin arms were only a little less bare than a skeleton. The nails were long and ended in ragged points. Amaet took the creature's hand and helped it to stand upright. It rose dripping from the black water, shivering. Marta could see the thing's ruined body, and it was all she could do to keep her gorge from rising.

  NOT TOO MUCH LEFT NOW. WHAT WERE YOU, KESSA? DO YOU REMEMBER AT ALL? THINK.

  The creature shimmered like mist in sunlight, then changed. Marta looked at a woman of about thirty, with long dark hair and gentle brown eyes.

  Marta shivered. "How did she come to this? What did you do to her?"

  SHE DID THIS TO HERSELF. WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE, KESSA?

  The woman shook her head, and the hunger Marta had seen on the creature's face before was replaced with sheer terror. There was a mirror in Amaet's hand. It hadn't been there a moment before. LOOK, she said. The woman turned her head, crying out in anguish.

  "Stop!"

  They both turned to look at her. Marta took a step forward. "You're hurting her," she said, more softly.

  THERE IS NO 'HER' TO HURT, MARTA. JUST A STUBBORN MEMORY THAT WILL NOT FADE. KESSA MADE A LOVELY SHRINE IN THIS CAVE. SHE WORKED HARD, GAVE IT THE DEVOTION SHE NEVER GAVE HER HUSBAND, HER CHILDREN. ALL FOR ME. OR WAS IT FOR YOURSELF, KESSA? YOUR PRIDE IN YOUR SKILL, YOUR ARROGANCE IN BEING SELECTED AMONG ALL THE STONE CARVERS IN A VILLAGE THAT HAS BEEN DUST FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS? WHAT KEEPS YOU HERE, FEEDING ON THE SCRAPS OF LIFE?

  There was no sound from the woman. Marta couldn't even be sure she understood what was happening, except on some primal, basic level that only hunger or fear could reach.

  "Let her go," Marta said. "Please."

  BE CAREFUL OF WHAT YOU DESIRE, MARTA.

  Amaet released the woman's hand, in that instant it wasn't a woman at all. It was the craja, all hunger and appetite, and Marta was much too close. It sprang forward, faster than a snake, and it was only Marta's good luck that she managed to catch its bony arms as it reached for her. As it was she was overborne and fell hard against the stone behind her. The thing's teeth were inches from Marta's throat, its eyes glowing red.

  "Mine!" it shrieked, like a demented child.

  Fool!

  Marta barely had time for the thought. It was all she could do to keep the thing's teeth away from her, and its fetid breath was sickening. Marta could feel her strength failing.

  It's too strong...

  But how could it be? It was nothing but bone and hunger. How could it be there at all? Marta forced herself to think, concentrate. Amaet was smiling at her from a few feet away and Marta used the anger from that knowledge to bolster her aching arms.

  Amaet said Kessa did this to herself. What if she was telling the truth?

  There was the answer.
Marta spoke the words even as their true meaning gave her what she needed to know. "What Power Holds, Weakness Frees."

  Marta let go off of the creature's left arm and its hand shot forward, tightening around Marta’s throat. She could feel the ragged talons cutting into her skin, but she ignored it just long enough to reach out to the creature's chest, in to the creature's body. She pushed her hand between crumbling bone and rotted sinew until her fingers closed on something small, hard, and cold. She gripped the thing she found there, and she broke it.

  There was no sound for several long moments. Marta felt the thing's grip tightening on her and wondered, just for an instant, if she had been wrong, but the doubt didn't last any longer than that.

  I wasn't wrong.

  The grip went away. The touch went away. There was nothing left of the revenant except for a few moldering bones and what might have been a scrap of cloth. Marta took a deep breath, looked at the broken thing she held in her hand. It was a talisman, a small female figurine clutching an axe and apple blossom.

  Amaet. As if there was any doubt.

  Marta sat up, and held out the broken talisman. "She did it for you. You were what Kessa clung to, why she would not leave this place."

  The Power looked strangely thoughtful. PERHAPS.

  "She almost killed me!"

  AND YOU KNEW WHAT SHE WAS BEFORE YOU TOLD ME TO LET HER GO. STILL...

  Marta blinked. "Yes?"

  IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A WASTE.

  Marta didn't get a chance to ask what Amaet meant by that, for in a moment Amaet was no longer there. Marta wasn't fool enough to try and call her back; she'd been fool enough for one day and still managed to live through it. More, she had learned that the First Law was good for more than breaking rocks and hinges. It could break chains, too. Even ones that could not be seen.

  A hard lesson but, to Marta's way of thinking, well worth learning. However, the one lesson was quite enough. Marta left the cave as quickly as she reasonably could. She did pause to bow stiffly at Amaet's shrine, but it was not a bow to Amaet. She fervently hoped that she never would bow to Amaet. No, her homage was to Kessa alone, along with a wish—if not a prayer—for her peaceful sleep.