"You can't." Chanter gazed at him, then chuckled. "The damned Mujar, the accursed undying, the golden beast men with the shining eyes. To Truemen we are all of these things, and more."
"I didn't mean it like that; I meant that no Trueman can hope to compete with a Mujar's perfection, never mind his powers."
"I know what you meant. You can't, so don't try. I can't change my man form; it was given to us for a reason."
"To make Truemen envious."
"Not always," Chanter shook his head. "It was meant to bring out the best and the worst in your race. Some envied and hated us for it; a few loved and admired us. The chosen are those who love us, even if some fear us too, that's allowed. I know that you fear me, and you're torn between love and hate because of Talsy. Yet her feelings for me are none of my doing. It's neither her fault nor mine."
"So what can I do?"
"Be yourself. Be Trueman. Stay with her when my duty takes me away. I can never love her as a woman, for there are no female Mujar, as such, so that love is denied me. Dancer loved you, never doubt that. He left when you were hurt because the law forbade him to help you, and he could not bear to see you suffer. Your father never asked for clan bond, did he?"
Kieran shook his head. "Only companionship."
"So Dancer could offer you no more. It wasn't in the bargain, and you had done him no service to earn a Wish."
The Prince gazed around at the forest and sighed a cloud of steam. "Then how do you love her?"
Chanter smiled. "As I love this world and everything in it. But she's special. She's the First Chosen, and perhaps I love her more than anything else."
Kieran frowned. "Have you lain with her?"
"No." Chanter looked away, his eyes hidden by the sweep of black lashes. "That would not be a good idea."
"Why?"
The Mujar shook his head and turned away, but Kieran grabbed his arm and swung him back to face him. To his surprise, Chanter offered no resistance, merely raising his eyes in a look that made Kieran release him.
"You said that you would answer my questions, and I'm asking you one. Why?"
"Are you not content that I have not? Leave it be. I have not, nor will I."
"What would it do to her?"
"That matters not. It won't happen."
Chanter marched away into the forest, heading back towards the river. After pondering his words, Kieran followed.
At the camp, Talsy chatted to Sheera, and Chanter sat close by with his usual enigmatic expression, sipping a steaming mug of tea. Kieran found that his jealousy had left him, and when he saw them together now he felt only pity for them. Talsy for her impossible dream and for the Mujar who could never fulfil it. Roth made a place for him by the fire and he settled down opposite Talsy, meeting her smug glance with an impassive one.
With almost three hundred people inside the stone shelter now, the atmosphere had become cosy and three more fires had been lighted. Many of the chosen who had just joined them rested or ate. The rebels had shared out their clothing amongst the less fortunate, and all were garbed warmly, if rather shabbily.
Tyrander glanced around the dusty room, his eyes coming to rest on the imposing portrait of his grandfather hanging on the far wall. He had not been in this room for many years, and it brought back a lot of memories. He was calmer now, and almost sober. After venting his rage and frustration by hacking most of the furniture in his room to pieces, then attacking the walls and floor, he had called for strong black tea and imbibed a great deal of it. When most of the fog had been washed from his brain, the situation only looked bleaker.
The Mujar had won. Not only had he thwarted Tyrander's plans to use him to defend the city, he had freed the traitors and revived the girl. He glared at the painting of his grandfather.
"You never wrote that they were so cunning, Grandfather," he addressed it. "In fact, you said that they were quite stupid. You were wrong, they were never stupid. I used the knowledge from your book, and it failed me."
Tyrander approached the great dusty tome on its wooden stand in the centre of the room that had once been his grandfather's study. The leather-bound book was closed, and the golden letters on its cover read 'The Book of Mujar'.
Tyrander gave a bitter laugh. "You knew nothing, you old coot. All your learning was but a drop in the ocean. They never told you anything important, they were too clever for that."
Opening the heavy book at random, he let the cover fall with a bang, disturbing years of dust. The page bore a drawing of a naked Mujar, his body coloured with gold leaf, his eyes picked out with fragments of blue butterfly wing. The flowing writing on the opposite page seemed to leap out at him, and he read it.
'The reproductive activities of Mujar are a mystery, yet they are capable of mating with Truemen women. They do so rarely, usually only as a Wish, and are infertile. Some women claim to have borne Mujar children, but these were found to be pure Trueman. Some legends say that Mujar are born from great flowers, but this tale is usually scoffed at and rightly so. Mujar claim that they do not mate with animals when in beast form, yet this is the most logical way in which Mujar could propagate. When questioned, Mujar claim to 'come from the land,' and will explain themselves no further.'
Tyrander turned the page with a snort. "Who cares?"
Leafing through the book, he glanced at each ornately inscribed chapter, not knowing what he sought, yet looking for some idea to thwart the hated Mujar. The last chapter was entitled 'The Staff of Law'. Tyrander skipped through the details of how his grandfather had acquired it and learnt to understand its writing. Almost on the last page, the heading of a short paragraph caught his eye. He read it quickly, then again, more slowly. Finally he straightened, brushing dust from his sleeves, and wandered over to the window to stare out at the deserted oasis that languished under dull grey skies. For a long time he thought about what he had read, then turned to gaze up at the portrait on the wall.
"Perhaps you did do something right, Grandfather. I would never have thought of it. Thank you."
Tyrander left the room with new purpose in his stride, closing the door on its dusty memories and the steely gaze of the old man on the wall.
After the chosen had rested and eaten, Chanter insisted that they must move on, and his urgency surprised Talsy. The people left the shelter and trudged through deep snow into the forest. Chanter ranged far ahead, mostly out of sight, leaving the chosen to follow his footprints. Kieran walked beside her, offering help whenever she floundered. She glared and shook him off, making things worse for herself by trying to walk faster. Kieran had always irked her with his quiet ways, and now it wore at her nerves, too much like a Mujar, which he was not. Since he chose to walk beside her, she retaliated by talking, hoping to drive him away.
"So did Chanter tell you to leave me alone?"
He glanced at her. "No."
"Oh? What did he tell you?"
He considered his answer before replying, "Only that it's useless to try to persuade you of the futility of your dream. He told me that he's already explained it to you, but you're too stubborn to listen."
Talsy gasped in outrage, tripped and almost went headfirst into a snowdrift. Kieran grabbed her, keeping her upright. She glared and jerked free, rubbing her arm. "Well, at least you'll stop hounding me about it."
"Yes."
For a while they walked in silence, until Talsy thought of a subject guaranteed to annoy the Prince. "Have you made up with your mother yet?"
He shot her a hard look. "No."
"Why not? Surely she deserves some consideration from her son? You should be helping her, not me."
"She has help."
Talsy glanced back at the Queen, who was being aided by her ladies and Ardel, the advisor. "She's a very nice lady."
He grunted, staring ahead.
"I wish I had known my mother."
"You're a girl."
She snorted. "If boys didn't need a mother, their fathers should bear them too."
&n
bsp; "I'm not a boy, I'm a man."
"Are you so selfish? Even if you don't need her, she needs you."
He glared at her. "It's none of your business."
"Yes it is. I like her, I think she deserves better."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Well I do. If you don't, then go walk somewhere else."
Kieran gave a low growl and stopped, letting her stride away before falling in with Roth further behind. Talsy smiled and gazed ahead for some sign of Chanter. Snow squeaked under her feet, and the clear imprint of the Mujar's boots led her on.
Talsy glanced around as Sheera fell into step beside her, panting, her face grey with strain. Concerned, Talsy took her elbow as the old woman struggled through the deep snow.
"We can slow down. We don't have to walk this fast."
Sheera waved it away. "I'm okay," she gasped. "What did you say to Kieran, or should I say, the Prince?"
Talsy giggled. "Just asked him about his mother. He hates that."
"Who would have guessed that he would turn out to be a Prince?"
"Not me," Talsy averred. "He has the manners of a peasant."
"Now, now. He's a nice boy. Why do you insist on driving him away?"
"He annoys me. He's too sure of himself, too..." She shrugged. "I don't know."
"Intimidating?" Sheera supplied.
"Perhaps."
"That's because he's a warrior, silly girl, not some callow youth. If you want one of those there are plenty amongst the chosen."
Talsy thought of the gangling, pimply boys and shuddered. "No, definitely not. I know who I want."
"The one you can't have."
"Don't you start."
Sheera glanced at her. "All right, have your dream, but don't forget there are more pretty girls amongst the chosen."
"He can have them," Talsy growled, frowning. "I have one far better than he."
"Then why is he not by your side, helping you as Kieran was trying to do?"
"Because he's busy!" Talsy said, but at the same time anger boiled in her at Chanter's neglect. Sheera was right, why was Chanter not walking beside her? He did not need to be so far ahead. In her anger her steps became unwary, and her foot slipped on an icy root hidden beneath the white blanket, twisted her ankle and sent her tumbling into a deep drift. Sheera tried to help her up, but Talsy shook her off.
"Chanter!" Her bellow shattered the forest's icy hush, and the chosen ground to a panting halt, staring at her as she sat red-faced in the snow.
Within moments Chanter appeared, running like a deer, and Sheera retreated.
He knelt beside her. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
She nodded. "My ankle hurts."
With gentle hands he examined the joint, the brief flash of Shissar barely noticeable as he healed it. "Only a sprain. Better now?"
Talsy gripped the front of his leather tunic, pulling him closer. "Stay with me. It's hard to walk in this snow, I need your help."
He glanced past her. "I thought Kieran was helping you."
"I don't want his help. I want yours."
The Mujar cocked his head. "What's the difference?"
"I don't like him."
"Then ask one of the soldiers, I need to -"
"No!" Talsy tried to shake him, biting her lip as bitter tears stung her eyes. "Do I mean nothing to you now? When we were alone you carried me on your back, now I must struggle without you?"
The Mujar looked confused and contrite. "No, of course not. I'm sorry, my little clan." He stroked her tangled hair. "I'll stay with you."
Talsy smiled as he helped her up, shooting a smug glance at Sheera and Kieran. Neither looked impressed, but she did not care. She clung to his arm, content to have his help as she slipped and stumbled through the snow.
"Where are we going?"
"To find more chosen, and then to the gathering."
"Where is the gathering?"
Chanter glanced around, but the chosen were out of earshot. "On the Plains of Redemption, beyond the inland sea where once the Staff of Law dwelt, and the Lake of Dreams."
"Why there?"
"That's where the great wingless silver bird that brought you lies, which is why the gods have chosen it."
"Back to where we started from."
He nodded.
"Tell me about the silver bird."
Chanter sighed. "Over a thousand years ago, a silver bird came out of the void. For a long time it circled this world high above, then finally it came down. Because it had no wings, it fell like a stone and smashed on the great plateau. The gods were curious, but all within it were dead. So they took the pieces they found and created the creature that was written within the flesh."
"Truemen."
"Yes. They created six, male and female. The gods looked into their memories and saw the creatures these people knew, and created them too, so they would be happy. The six built houses, bred their animals and had many children. The gods found them interesting, different from their creations, which they hid away, for Truemen killed and ate animals. The tribe grew in number, then split into two tribes that warred with each other. The bloodshed didn't please the gods, so they moved one tribe to another continent. For a while there was peace, but as the Truemen multiplied, they split and fought again. The gods tried to keep the peace, but soon it became impossible, for there were too many people to keep them apart."
Talsy glanced at him as he paused. "So what did they do?"
"They sent Mujar to test them."
"Why?"
He smiled. "Because they didn't like the Truemen's ways. The wars you fought from greed and hate, your destructiveness and cruelty. They wanted to see if Truemen could be led from their path of evil and savagery, taught to love this land and its creatures, learn the benefits of peace and compassion. So we were sent amongst you, given your form and language to see if you would learn from our example and become like us. They made us immortal so those who tried to could not rid themselves of us by killing us, for that is a Truemen's answer to anything he does not like. But they found that they could get rid of us by throwing us into the Pits instead.
"The gods are wise, and they gave us the powers and perfection that would bring out the best or the worst in Truemen. Some, they thought, would admire us and earn our favours by following our example, while others would envy and hate us. Thus they sought to separate the good from the bad, then destroy the evil ones and bring forth a race of gentle, caring Truemen."
"But it didn't work," Talsy pointed out, fascinated.
"No, not at first. For a while there was hope, then the Truemen's hatred for us grew and they threw us into the Pits, tortured and ill-treated us. A few people befriended Mujar, but they all wanted something in return. They expected friendship, and to be given help when they asked for it, or companionship or love. None were able to give unselfishly, expecting nothing in return. When there were only a few Mujar left, the gods decided that the time of testing was over and unleashed the Hashon Jahar."
He glanced at her, his eyes twinkling. "Then I found you. The gods were angry at first, for the time of testing was over and the Hashon Jahar unleashed. But they could not go against their own laws, so if one Trueman was truly worth saving, then all those who could be taught our ways had to be saved too. They changed their plans, bade me find those who could be moulded and lead them to the gathering."
She stumbled, saved by his strong hand. "Surely there must have been others? I can't be the only one who's good enough."
"There may be, but you're the first one to be tested and found worthy. You are able to love and admire a Mujar without any selfish reasons for doing so. By throwing us into the Pits, Truemen sealed their fate and threw away their chance for redemption."
"But why didn't you tell people?" she demanded. "Why didn't you try to teach them the right way, instead of making them hate you by being so difficult and uncaring?"
He shook his head. "We were not sent to teach you, only to find those who had un
selfishness and compassion. Had we told people of the gods' plans, they all would have pretended to be worthy, lied and cheated to save themselves."
"There were children in those cities the Black Riders destroyed. Innocent babes who couldn't possibly be guilty of hating Mujar."
"Unfortunately, yes. Their parents condemned them. There are children amongst the chosen too, who have been saved by their parents, for they are too young to be judged. The parents who mould the child. Remember King Garsh's son?"
Talsy nodded, shuddering at the memory of the vindictive little boy, and Chanter went on, "He was not born thus, but his father taught him to be so. Do not grieve for them; they will be reborn into their next lives with parents who will teach them the right way."
"You didn't know all of this when I met you, did you?" she asked.
"No. I knew nothing to begin with, but I had strange urges, which I didn't understand. Like longing for good food and shelter, clothes and company, none of which a Mujar needs. Now I know that these longings were to make us seek out people and live amongst them, otherwise we would have stayed in the forests. All I knew was that I could not help someone who had not first earned it through kindness and generosity. It did bother me. I felt guilt and remorse, but I knew that it was forbidden."
Talsy looked confused. "But what about the clan bond? Why was that different? Why did you enter into it? Surely helping people in return for comforts was against the rules?"
He chuckled. "That depends on which way around the helping was done. If I went to a village and they asked for clan bond, then told me to dig a grave to earn my comforts, I would have left. When I entered into clan bond with the hill tribe, I lived amongst them for a week before they asked me to do anything, you see? When I entered into clan bond with you, it was after you had freed me from the gold, which earned you a large Wish.
"I could not grant it unless I stayed with you, and I had to grant it, for you had more than earned it. The Wish of protection was too little for the favour you had done for me. A Mujar may not refuse a Wish to someone who has earned it, and the size of the Wish depends upon the size of the favour. When you freed me from the gold, you could have asked for almost anything, riches beyond your wildest dreams, which is usually what Truemen want."
Broken World Book Two - StarSword Page 21