by Ian Irvine
Three steps below him, to his left, Monkshart stood with one upraised arm pointing towards Nish. The drumming grew again, though this time he recognised it as a vast crowd roaring in acclamation. Nish bowed, raised his right hand and they fell silent. And then it struck him with such force that his knees nearly gave beneath him.
He was the Emperor of Santhenar, beloved by all as he worked tirelessly to undo the damage of his father’s reign and restore the world to a paradise where there was freedom, justice and opportunity for all.
Tears formed under his eyelids as Nish gave himself up to the possibility. He hadn’t sought it; it had simply come to him, but Monkshart had been right. He knew this was his true future, or could become it. His life wasn’t hopeless. This future might never happen; it would never happen unless he gave his all for it, and perhaps not then, but he had to try. It was what he wanted most in all the world, though he’d never before allowed himself to dream of it.
No more possibilities appeared; he’d seen all he was going to see. He felt transformed, his previous anguish replaced by a monk-like serenity. His destiny was clear at last.
‘You saw,’ said Monkshart as Nish bounded up the ladder, so inspired that his body felt weightless. He felt that he could do anything.
‘I saw,’ said Nish. Then, hastily, ‘But I was not the God-Emperor.’
Again that fleeting twist of the mouth. ‘No man may declare himself a god. It is an abomination. Do you agree to become the Deliverer, then, and cast down the false god?’
‘On one condition.’
‘Only one?’ said Monkshart.
Nish, thinking that he was being sarcastic, nodded. ‘That you will never again give way to the rage that burns within you. You will do no more evil in the Deliverer’s name.’
‘What is evil, anyway? And what if it’s necessary to do a small evil to prevent a greater one, or to achieve the greater good?’
‘I fail to see how murdering that poor lad could prevent a greater evil.’
‘If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me, since you’ve already judged me. But I give you my word – I will meet your condition. And now I suggest we go up to our beds, for we have much to plan in the morning.’
‘Monkshart?’ Nish said as they were crossing the pavilion, for something had occurred to him.
‘Yes, Deliverer?’
Nish smiled. For the first time, it sounded right. ‘The Pit of Possibilities only showed me achieving my goal. It didn’t show me any of the steps along the way. So how am I to know what to do when it comes to each choice?’
Monkshart frowned. ‘You must seek the support of your advisors, then follow your heart or your head, according to the moment.’
It was the most useless piece of advice Nish had ever heard, but he suddenly felt so weary that he could barely keep his eyes open, so he merely nodded and turned away to his chamber.
Only as he was drifting off to sleep did Nish realise that he should have imposed another condition on Monkshart while he had the bargaining power – that Maelys be placed under his protection until she could be sent to a place of safety. Was that why she’d died in all his futures?
TWENTY-THREE
Two days had passed since Nish’s return from the Pit of Possibilities, and Monkshart’s attitude had changed towards Maelys. He treated her with polite deference, but she still didn’t trust him. Even Phrune kept his distance now and said nothing offensive, though she often noticed his eyes on her when he thought she wasn’t looking.
She wasn’t convinced about Nish’s envisioned future, either. He’d told her about it the afternoon after it had happened, while Monkshart and Phrune were up in the village. She hadn’t said anything, for Nish looked a decade younger. There was colour in his cheeks for the first time, and a spring in his step she’d not seen before.
Maelys had intended to question him about that night, and how he’d ended up at the Pit in the first place, but she could never get him alone. Night or day, Monkshart and Phrune were always with him, deep in discussion over the coming campaign. They stopped talking as she entered the pavilion, glaring at her as if she were an interloper.
Her questions were answered with polite nothings, even by Nish. The afternoon after his vision in the Pit he’d been as excited as a child; he’d even hugged her, but since then he’d become progressively withdrawn, as if she had no more part to play in his life and they were going their separate ways like the most casual of acquaintances. It hurt, after all they’d been through together, and she began to wonder if Monkshart had cast an enthralment over Nish to make him forget her.
Monkshart had made his feelings clear from the beginning – Maelys was unworthy of Nish, would distract him from his great quest and must be separated from him at any cost. Once that happened, she surmised, Monkshart’s lies would destroy her in Nish’s eyes, and even if his quest did succeed, her family would get nothing out of it. Indeed, they would be in as much danger as if Nish failed, and everything she’d done since leaving home would have been for nothing.
That couldn’t be borne. She had to find a way to rescue the situation, though how could she possibly outwit such a cunning foe? She sat in her room for hour after hour with nothing to do but brood. Monkshart’s sudden transformation to Nish’s humble servant wasn’t credible. He was up to something. She needed to know more about the Pit of Possibilities, and whether he could manipulate what was seen there. Perhaps he planned to betray Nish for the reward, or the God-Emperor’s favour.
Or, most chilling of all, what if Monkshart had lied about his parting with Jal-Nish, and still remained loyal to him? Monkshart might have been put here to establish the Defiance, so as to lure all the malcontents and rebels on Santhenar into the God-Emperor’s web. Everything he’d done might have been part of a long-range plan. How could anyone truly know?
However, two things were perfectly clear. First and most importantly, if she didn’t act now, her family was lost. Secondly, and despite everything Monkshart had said, she felt sure that Nish’s life was also in danger. He was being used and, once Monkshart gained what he was after, Nish would be disposed of – or given up to his father.
Wait – Monkshart’s agony on hearing of the loss of the other Defiance outposts had seemed genuine, so unless he was the most consummate actor of all time, he couldn’t be secretly serving Jal-Nish, could he? Yet since returning from the Pit of Possibilities, he’d looked like the cat lapping at the bowl of cream. How could that be, when he was trapped here with Jal-Nish’s net closing on him? Two explanations came to mind. Either he was Jal-Nish’s man, or he had a plan to escape. But if Monkshart did, he wouldn’t be taking her.
Jal-Nish’s attack could come at any time, so Monkshart must have a secret escape route. She had to get to Nish before they fled, and she could only do that when everyone was asleep, but each night Phrune locked her chamber.
‘Jil?’ Maelys said as the girl brought her dinner that evening, ‘can you do something for me?’
‘Of course, Lady Maelys.’ She stood waiting.
‘It’s – it’s my lover, Nish,’ Maelys lied, colouring. She wasn’t practiced in deception and had never spoken about such intimacies before, but was hoping that Jil’s romantic nature would make her sympathetic.
‘He’s so handsome, Lady Maelys,’ said Jil.
That wasn’t how Maelys would have described Nish. Attractive was the best that could be said for him. ‘And I’m a lucky woman. At least –’ She put her hand over her heart and sighed heavily. ‘Oh, Jil, they won’t let me see him. Phrune says I’ve got to wait, and I do understand. Nish has to become the Deliverer. It’s more important than anything I want, but …’ Another sigh.
‘Do you miss him, Lady Maelys?’
‘More than I can ever say.’ She took Jil’s hand. ‘If I could be with Nish tonight, just for a little while, I hope I’ll be able to bear the terrible separation to come, when Monkshart takes him away to begin the Great Defiance and tear down the false God-Emperor. Bu
t what if … what if …?’ Maelys choked, and it wasn’t feigned. ‘What if they fail and he never comes back?’
Jil’s soft heart was touched, then a look of scandalised awe crossed her face. ‘Do you wish to go to your lover’s room? To – to lie with him, unwed?’
Maelys’s face grew hot. It was always giving her away. ‘I do,’ she lied, though it wasn’t really a lie. ‘It might be the very last time I see him. Do you think I’m wicked?’
‘I – no – he’s the Deliverer, Lady Maelys!’ Jil flushed, looked confused, then lowered her head. ‘It’s not my place to judge the doings of the mighty, but how could it be wrong, the night before he goes off to war?’
So tonight was the last night. ‘I think so too, Jil.’ Maelys lowered her voice. ‘I hate to ask but … can you help me?’
Jil didn’t answer straight away, but stared at the floor, shuffling her bare feet. Maelys could imagine what she was thinking. Jil’s punishment would be dire if her mistress was found outside her room.
‘I –’ Jil began.
‘I quite understand – it’s too much to ask …’
‘I will do it,’ said Jil, looking hurt at Maelys’s assumption. ‘For the Deliverer, and for love. I’ll come at the first hour after midnight, and again at the third hour. You must be back by then or it will go very ill for me.’
Maelys could imagine how ill. She embraced the thin girl. ‘Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.’
Something mischievous flashed in the girl’s eyes. She grinned, then bowed and went out.
Maelys was exhausted, for she’d not slept well since she came here, but she was afraid to nap in case she missed the subtle sound of the key in the lock. The minutes passed like hours, and every one raised another problem. What if Jil didn’t come? What if Phrune heard her, or Monkshart had already fled with Nish?
The key turned so quietly that she barely heard it. Maelys slipped off the bed and opened the door. The walls of the corridor were touched by slivers of reflected moonlight from the pavilion.
‘You look beautiful, Lady Maelys,’ said Jil.
In this light, at least. Maelys touched the girl’s hand in thanks then tiptoed barefoot to Nish’s room. She looked back: Jil was staring at her, though Maelys couldn’t read her expression. She opened Nish’s door and slipped inside.
His room was pitch dark. She could hear steady breathing, so unlike his tortured sleep on the way to Tifferfyte. She took a step towards him then stopped, realising what she was about to do to him. To win Nish back to her side she must convince him that the future he’d seen was a lie, but that would destroy the only peace of mind he’d had in ten years. And what if she were wrong? What if that future truly was his destiny, and she prevented him from achieving it?
Maelys hesitated, one foot frozen in mid-step. If only she had her own map of the future. Then it hit her. She must take Nish back to the Pit of Possibilities and let him see for himself, without Monkshart’s interference. If Nish saw the same vision, he could be sure it was the true one. But what if he saw something completely different?
Nish’s steady breathing changed; the bedclothes rustled and he sat up. She caught a whiff of his masculine scent and her nerves tingled.
‘Who’s there? Is that you, Maelys?’
‘Yes,’ she said softly, wondering how he could tell. ‘It’s me.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I had to talk to you. I’m so afraid. They won’t let me near you, Nish. They’re isolating you from me so you’ll have to rely on them –’
‘I don’t have to rely on anyone!’ he said sharply.
She’d touched on a sensitive issue, evidently. ‘I meant … Oh, Nish, they lock me in my room at night, and I’m terrified what they’re going to do to me once you’re gone.’
‘They wouldn’t dare harm you –’ he began.
‘How do you know? Monkshart has looked down on me from the beginning. I’m not worthy of you; I can’t be allowed to distract you, and you know how ruthless he is. He’ll order me thrown into the pit or –’
He drew a sharp breath. He’d been so caught up in Monkshart’s plans that he’d not given her a thought, and that hurt after all they’d been through together.
‘Or give me up to Vomix. Once you’re gone they’ll be rid of me, one way or the other.’
He didn’t reply, but he was breathing heavily now.
‘You’re the only friend I’ve got, Nish, and if you can’t help me, I’m dead.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
She felt her way forwards until her knees encountered the edge of the bed, then crouched beside it. Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I want you to come down to the Pit of Possibilities with me, and look again.’
A long silence, then he ground out, ‘Why are you trying to bring me down?’
He always took things the wrong way. ‘Nish, please.’ She reached out, but at her touch he jerked his arm away. ‘I’m not trying to bring you down. I care about you more than anyone, save only my little sister.’
‘You’re trying to rob me of the one good thing that’s happened for me since Irisis was murdered.’
It was too much. ‘Oh, stop whining!’ she hissed. ‘I think Monkshart sent you a false future in the Pit – the one he knew you wanted to see. Don’t you want to know the truth? Or do you find his lies more comfortable?’
The bed shook and for an awful moment she thought he was going to strike her, then he drew back, in the grip of such powerful emotions that he was nearly choking. Maelys, appalled at what she’d done, said softly, ‘Nish, I’m so sorry.’
‘You mistake me,’ he said eventually, fighting to control his voice. ‘For an instant, you reminded me of my beloved. She wouldn’t put up with my self-pity either.’ She heard a rustle as he wiped his face on the sheet, and the bedsprings creaked. ‘But Maelys, I’ve never before experienced such … serenity as I’ve felt since I came up from the Pit knowing where my true path lies. If I lose that, what will I have left?’
‘If you lose it, all you’ve really lost was a lie,’ she said. ‘Yet if you go down to the Pit again you may come up with the truth. There’s a comfort in truth, no matter how hard it may be, that you can never find in the most beautiful of lies. Will you come down now? I don’t have much time.’
He got up, silently, and went out. She followed him down the dark path, but at the rope ladder that dangled into the Pit Nish hesitated, his face ominously lit by the glow from below. ‘Go first.’
‘Me?’ Her heart lurched. ‘Why?’
‘I want to know what the Pit of Possibilities says about your future. And so, I’m sure, do you.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘Surely you’re not afraid?’ he said gently.
She was; terrified to see something she wouldn’t be able to face. Maelys felt sure the future was going to be short and tragic, for herself as well as her family, but as long as it was unclear she could cling to hope like the optimist she was. ‘You’re just trying to delay going in yourself,’ she said desperately.
‘I neglected you and I’m trying to make up for it. Off you go.’
There was no choice; she couldn’t bear for him to think of her as a coward. ‘What do I do when I get there?’
He told her, reciting Monkshart’s warnings about the Mistmurk, and sleeping in the pit. Maelys swallowed, then slowly climbed down the rope ladder, inspected her surroundings uneasily, and settled herself against the wall.
‘It takes a while,’ Nish called down.
It didn’t. She closed her eyes, and choked. She was looking down on the crater of Tifferfyte, where a gigantic army was advancing towards the foot of the mountain from all sides, in the moonlight. This future could be happening right now. Flappeters were circling not far out, while beyond them hovered three air-dreadnoughts, including a red and black monstrosity that she felt sure was the God-Emperor’s personal craft.
Her viewpoint shifted; the
image blurred and reformed. It was dawn now but the sky had clouded over and she couldn’t see either flappeters or air-dreadnoughts through the misty rain. She could see the army, though, advancing up the mountain in an eerie silence.
The view shifted again, now extending down the slope as if seen by one of the defenders behind the rude stone wall surrounding the village, now looking left then right at the other guards. They were armed only with scythes, mattocks and hammers, and an occasional pitted sword or rustic bow. They wouldn’t last ten minutes against this army.
And she was to die with them. Was it her looking out? It wasn’t – the hands holding the mattock were brawny man’s hands, with coarse black hair on their backs. She scanned the village but saw neither Monkshart, Phrune or Nish, and they weren’t at the crest of the crater either. Monkshart must have fled with them, leaving everyone else to die.
The army raised their swords and pikes and, with a massed roar that Maelys could almost hear, charged. She wrenched her eyes open. The vision vanished and there was nothing in the chamber but the greenish miasma rising from the Mistmurk.
‘Are you all right?’ Nish called.
She was panting, but Maelys willed herself to stay calm. ‘Yes. I’m all right; for now.’
He didn’t ask what she’d seen, thankfully. She pressed her palms against the floor to steady herself and closed her eyes again. Maelys felt drowsy but she mustn’t doze down here. If she leaned against the wall she would go to sleep. She got up and began to pace in a circle around the Mistmurk, not too close, but with her eyes open she couldn’t see anything. She closed her eyes, walking carefully, and shortly began to see blackness streaked with occasional flashes of red.
That image lasted for ages, as she slowly circled, until she must have walked too close to the Mistmurk. A tendril of its coldness touched her bare ankles and her taphloid, which had been lifeless ever since she’d imploded its crystal, suddenly grew warm. An image drifted into focus, though it took a long time before she could make out what it was. It looked like a single red-raw eye staring through an oddly curved and twisted mask.