Black Kath's Daughter

by Richard Parks

  Marta didn't want to do any such thing, including touching Amaet's hand, but the Power's tone made it clear that refusing was not an option. Marta reached out, felt Amaet's hand close on hers. Marta wasn't sure what she'd expected, but the touch was a human touch, warm and dry. The Power led Marta away from the masks in her former dream but the masks followed, bobbing and floating along like will-o-the-wisps in Marta's wake.

  "Your dreams are stubborn things," Amaet said.

  Marta said nothing. She was trying to see the landscape Amaet was leading her through, but as far as Marta could tell there wasn't anything to see. It was a vast expanse of black nothing. No motion of animals or birds or anything else. No hills, no rivers. No moon, stars, or sky for that matter. There was no horizon, just a distance that faded into dark mist. There was a continuous stretch of something that could have been solid ground, but didn't feel like ground or anything else since Marta wasn't even touching it. She looked down, and was a little relieved that she still had feet, and hadn't managed to change into some drifting vapor or some such when she wasn't looking.

  Marta was even a little relieved that the masks from her enigmatic little dream were following her like goslings in flight; they were comfortable, now. Almost familiar. Hers. Unlike everything else Marta was seeing now.

  "Is this the home of the Powers?"

  "This isn't anyone's home. It isn't anything at all, really, except a place that is not. It is a means, not a destination. Think of it as a road, though that's a rather puny word for it."

  "If this is a road, then why are we walking when we aren't going anywhere? It all looks the same."

  "Nowhere is the fastest road from somewhere to somewhere else. What else should nowhere look like?"

  Marta had no answer to that, mostly because she didn't understand it. She did understand, however, when the scene abruptly changed.

  Amaet and Marta stood at the base of a mountain so high that, try as she might, Marta could not see the top of it, so wide that either side looked more like a vertical horizon than anything else; there was even the slight distending curve that Marta would have expected to see from a true horizon. There were no other mountains nearby, nor trees. There was a blue sky above but it seemed a pallid thing, more sky by courtesy than the deep, vivid blues Marta knew. All this Marta took in with barely a blink; there was a part of her that considered this still no more than a dream, and likely to change without warning. What she saw next got all her attention, and put thoughts of dreams right out of her mind.

  It was a cave. The darkest, deepest, least inviting maw of the earth that Marta had ever seen. Marta groaned.

  "Why do the Powers who rule the heavens spend so much time in holes in the ground?"

  Amaet just looked at her, expressionless. "As well ask why you dream of masks, Black Kath's daughter. I am not responsible for how you see this place. Or how you interpret the reality of what you know back in the waking world. As I said, your meanings are your own."

  "Are you saying this isn't a cave?"

  "If a cave is what you see, then that is what it is. Since you apparently don't like caves, that is unfortunate for you. However, it changes nothing."

  Marta nodded looking glum. "We're going inside."

  Amaet laughed then. "No, Black Kath's daughter. You are."

  Marta stared at the hole. The rocks around it were broken and ragged looking; there was a faint whiff of rotten eggs drifting from the opening.

  "I don't want to go in there."

  Amaet just shrugged.

  "Will you at least tell me why you won't go with me?"

  "Because she would know, fool. That's why I have servants to act for me when needs must."

  "Who would know?"

  "My... enemy, for want of a better word. Astonei."

  Marta had heard the name before. Another Power, though Marta thought that Astonei's cult was more common in the west and north. It was definitely the first time Marta had heard of a dispute between two Powers. So far as she could recall, Marta had never even heard of two Powers in the same context. There were no legends of 'Wars in the Heavens' or anything of the sort. She's thought of Powers like the Laws themselves: related yet separate. Aloof.

  "What is the dispute between you two?"

  "That is not your concern right now. It is enough that there is a point on which Astonei and I disagree. Naturally each seeks to destroy the other."

  "Naturally. Yet you are immortal," Marta pointed out. "How can you destroy or be destroyed?"

  Amaet shrugged. "I confess that point does make settling disputes a tricky matter, but not impossible. And 'destroy' does not necessarily mean 'kill,' you know. Just a point of fact that you needn't concern yourself with just now. Brace yourself."

  Marta blinked. "Why?"

  "Because I'm going to turn you into a craja."

  Marta didn't even have to time to scream a denial before it was done. She held up her hands, staring in mute horror at the skeletal claws they had become. Marta almost reached up to touch her face, but she was too afraid of what she would find there, and hesitated, afraid to know and to not know all at once. Yet the transformation, abhorrent though it felt to her, was not the worst of it.

  The worst part was the hunger.

  Marta looked at Amaet. So close. So full of flesh and steaming, hot blood. Or at least, so it seemed to her. Without thinking, without being able to think, she leapt at Amaet. Amaet didn't move, or try to defend herself. There was no need. Marta's leap brought her to Amaet and through Amaet. Marta fell hard on the rocks beyond the form of Amaet, every touch of stone like a cold knife against her bare bones where they lay exposed by ripped, rotted flesh.

  "You're not handling this as well as I'd hoped." Amaet produced a hunk of steaming red meat and it in front of the whimpering Marta, who didn't so much eat the morsel as engulf it.

  Marta reached out with her bony hands. "More!" she croaked.

  "Marta, look at me!"

  Marta felt the voice as a distant thing, like a hunting horn calling from the depths of a forest. She shook her head, trying to listen, trying to hear anything except the sound of her own dry joints creaking together, and the grinding of her yellowed teeth, and the almost unbearable din of her hollow belly. Slowly, Marta forced her arms down to her sides, forced herself to breath slowly even though she didn't need to breath at all, not really. She started to hug herself until she realized what she was embracing, and quickly pulled her arms away. She fought back a sudden throatful of bile and looked into Amaet's cold blue eyes.

  Amaet smiled. "Still in there somewhere, Black Kath's daughter? Hiding yet behind those bright red eyes and that lovely face?"

  Marta managed to nod, but it was hard to think, or to know anything except the hunger. It was as if Amaet, having given her a new body, now was also giving her back enough of herself to keep the reality of the transformation from overwhelming her.

  Barely.

  "What have you done to me?!"

  "What your mother did to Bone Tapper and Yssara and Treedle, no more and no less. I've transformed a servant into the form that serves me best. It's not a punishment, Marta. It's simple necessity."

  Just as what I did to Master Lokan. Marta felt sick again. She didn't think she deserved to ask what she did ask, just then, but she had to. She hated the piteous tone of her voice, but she couldn't help it. "You'll change me back?"

  "If you do as I say."

  "Anything..."

  Marta hated the smile on Amaet's sweet face, but mostly Marta hated herself, hated the word that came out of her mouth because she knew it for simple truth, hated herself for hearing as much from that fool Lokan and enjoying the sound too much. Yet, for all that he had brought it on himself, Marta understood Lokan a little better now, at least so far as his surrender went. If Amaet had asked Marta to strangle Queen Mysona in her bed or boil King Alian's heir with carrots and onions, right then Marta would have done either or both of those things without hesitation. Anything to change the
horror she had become, but most of all to lose the hunger filling her soul and mind until there was little between herself and gibbering madness but Amaet's will turned on her, anchoring Marta to herself. Marta could almost hear the chains of that anchor groaning under the strain.

  "...not much time," Marta managed to say, and Amaet nodded.

  "True enough. Go into the cave. When you see what is there, you will know what I want you to do. Go. Hurry."

  Marta wanted clearer instructions, but she went, and she did hurry. She ran over the stones, crouching like an animal, and dove down into the cave like a badger returning to its burrow. Once inside, Marta realized the darkness wasn't as absolute as it appeared. There seemed to be a faint reddish glow that illuminated all, but she couldn't tell if it was a characteristic of the cave or of her new body's night vision. Whatever the case, Marta had no trouble at all as she scuttled down deeper into the earth. It felt right to her, much safer and familiar that the vast bright open above. Down here it was quiet, and secure.

  Hungry hungry hungry...

  For a moment Marta was afraid the other inside her was asserting itself again, but after a moment or two Marta realized the thoughts were not hers, that she was not alone down in the earth. Marta scuttled down a steep slope of limestone, looking for the others. She saw no one at first, just a vast cavern that reminded her greatly of the one near her home where she'd found the shrine to Amaet. Except for the vast lake that lay near the center—and it was a lake so far as she could see, not a river. She didn't know what fed it, but there was no dark ribbon of water connecting it to the underground river system, if any. Perhaps a spring from underneath? And why did the place look so familiar? Was she affecting the reality of it by her perceptions, as Amaet seemed to hint?

  Marta shook her head. This place is nothing of me.

  So who did live here?

  Marta still saw no one, and her own hunger was growing again. Perhaps she could find food there. Perhaps a blind fish, hard and boney but with flesh as well? Marta studied her hands. Her fingers were like hooked claws; she was sure she could fish with them, or anything else. She made her way down to the dark water.

  She thought they were fish at first, those flashed of white near the surface, those furtive ripples, but of course they were not.

  Craja. The lake was filled with them.

  So many...

  Marta saw a pale white glow beyond the lake, but she did not go to investigate. Marta felt exposed there on the bank, vulnerable, but it was not the craja nor what lay beyond the lake that she feared. She slipped into the water itself, felt its cold embrace as the comfort she could not give herself. Down there in the water she found the darkness that was missing in the cave. Even her glowing red eyes could not see very far; hardly enough to reach all the other glowing pairs of eyes that saw her in turn, recognizing her, for now, as one of their own. The lake was a place to hide, and yet still be near her sisters.

  Close to the One.

  Marta blinked. She had no sisters. She was no craja, despite the curse of a ruined body that Amaet had bestowed on her. And who was this 'One,' anyway? She felt the thought, absorbed it as if through the communal water itself. After a little longer Marta believed she had absorbed something else. A little understanding that had been missing before, even after her own confrontation with the craja in Amaet's cave.

  It's not flesh they...I, hunger for.

  The craja were dead, in the sense they no longer lived. Yet proper death meant oblivion. And oblivion meant separation from the one they loved, worshiped, feared, adored. Like the woman in Amaet's cave, the woman who had once owned a name and a life of her own, and had given all to something she thought was greater than herself, more important, and had given all until there was nothing left, not even life itself.

  They will not stop.

  With that understanding, it was almost as if a little more of Marta's soul had returned to her. The pity that Marta had felt for herself now turned outward. She would find a way out of this ruined body and back to where she belonged, somehow. But these poor creatures, hundreds of them, were trapped forever. Doomed to a hunger that would never go away as long as there was that connection, and a place to hide. Marta wanted more than anything to set them free, but how? Even if each and every one wore some talisman to Astonei as the other had worn her image of Amaet, Marta could not overcome them all to break the image, the bond. There were too many.

  I'll do what I can.

  Marta found one craja who did not move in the main group, a straggler stalking an evil-looking blind eel near the opposite shore. The creature took no notice of Marta as she came close; all its attention was on the eel. Marta reached down to its ruined chest, feeling for what she thought must be there. It was easier than she'd expected; there was no flesh at all on this one over the ribs. Marta reached in and her hand closed on nothing.

  It's not there?

  The craja hissed at her, absently, then reached out to snag the eel. In a moment it had chewed up and swallowed the entire thing. Marta watched the gobbets fall through the creature's upper ribs and float on the faint current. Eating clearly wasn't helping her, nor would it help Marta. Worse, what she thought she knew of the craja's nature was apparently mistaken. Her defeat numbed Marta for a moment. She had freed one craja, back in the waking world. She had been so certain that she could do it again.

  Marta frowned. Maybe I still can. There's something different here...

  The craja apparently thought so, too. Just as their thoughts had intruded on her, it seemed as if Marta's growing otherness, her discordant thoughts had finally gotten their attention. Marta realized that most of the other pairs of red eyes were turned in her direction.

  Marta ignored them. I think I know now what's different here.

  In the cave near her home, Amaet's shrine, even though the craja had known it was there, was not visible from the water's edge. Marta didn't want to leave the water, even when the other craja there started to creep toward her, slowly; their confusion leading toward something like fear, and anger. Marta remembered that the other craja back in Amaet's cave didn't want to leave the water either, yet it could. So she forced herself to walk up the sloping far shore until her head broke out of the blackness and she looked at the pale white glow she had seen before.

  It was a woman.

  The image of one, anyway. Carved from rock crystal at least seven feet high; it shimmered there in the darkness. Faint as it was, the glow made it hard for Marta to look at it directly. She could make out an upraised hand holding what looked like a water jug.

  Astonei of the Springtime and Summer.

  A fertility aspect, if Marta remembered right. Not that Marta thought there was much fertility or anything in the way of green, growing things in that place. Marta felt a touch at her back and she pulled herself out of the water, too fast for the touch to become a grip.

  Marta heard a low moan, rising from a hundred ruined throats; she glanced back to see red eyes, row on row in the black water staring at her in fear. That fear didn't stop them from moving toward her. Quickly.

  Marta ran toward the shrine. Even as the other craja sensed Mart's intent, the closer Marta got to the Shrine, the more she saw what the other craja saw, felt what they felt. Their worry, their fear, but most of all their anguish. How could she even think of doing what she intended? How could anyone be so vicious, so cruel?

  How can I...?

  Marta stopped just short of the shrine, sobbing. She heard the others closing on her, but she didn't care. She was with them, of them. She was craja. She was...

  The first mask floated across Marta's field of vision. Her mother? Kerasa? It didn't matter. Marta had forgotten about them until then and yet they followed her, that little bit of dreamstuff that was hers, not Amaet's, not Astonei's, not of the craja approaching her, their clawed hands reaching out to rend and tear.

  This is me. This is mine. I do what I have to.

  Marta felt another touch then, but it was not t
he craja. It was recognition. She had touched another Law, but there was no time to think about that now, or hesitate. Marta reached out and her hand touched cold stone.

  The First Law is mine. Whatever form I take or what I look like, I am Marta, Black Kath's daughter.

  Marta broke the image of Astonei. There was one long howl from behind her, but Marta did not look to see. She did not need to see the result of what she had done, because there was no question. In another moment Marta was alone. Except for the masks. They followed her as she, still reluctantly, made her way out of the cave to where Amaet was waiting for her.

  "I couldn't do it, Amaet. Whatever you wanted, I failed you."

  Amaet smiled. "Hardly."

  There was no other word spoken, but in an instant Marta was herself again. Her hands looked strange to her then, felt strange even as she ran her fingers slowly across her face and brushed her arms, gently, as if reminding herself what flesh felt like when bone is properly hidden.

  "You wanted me to free those poor creatures? That was your task?"

  "As you did at my own shrine, though I only had the one and so could spare the cost. I'm surprised you didn't recognize that at once. After all, it was you who gave me the idea in the first place, and thank you for that. Astonei has been weakened just slightly tonight, and you've taken a bit off your Debt. Hardly worth mentioning on both points, but Astonei will not be pleased and so it was worth doing. And frankly I wasn't sure such was possible. This knowledge is worth more than the small cost."

  Marta shook her head. "Cost you? You did this to hurt Astonei somehow? I don't understand you."

  Amaet shrugged. "It's simple enough: Powers tend to accumulate souls...a certain type of soul. The ones who long for something greater than themselves, those who see answers somewhere else, always, and never in themselves. Fools, basically. There's energy in a soul. Strength. Even in such wasted things. Astonei is older than I am and has been accumulating souls far longer than I have. Now she's lost a few. She was never keen on the idea and, since I didn't act against her directly, I doubt she'll notice."