“But the people who built this? Where did they go?”
“I have taught you to read, Ginna, and I have a book I must show you sometime. It is by the philosopher Telechronos, who said that the ages of existence are like the times of the day. The cultures of the Dawn rose and built their cities, and those people imagined themselves to be all of history, and indeed they were in a way. But when their cities were as the mounds you have seen among the hills, when they moved no longer and their eyes were closed, then came the Morning, when works were mightier yet. In the brightness of Noon mankind climbed yet higher, attaining other realms and other worlds even. What you see before you is a city of the Afternoon, when the heights had been scaled and the spirit of man rested in the warmth of the sun.”
The boy was silent. He thought for a minute, puzzled. “But if this is so, where do we fit in?”
“Our place in the procession, the book says, is toward the end. We are creatures of the twilight. No more impression than the shadow of a cloud shall we leave behind, when both Ai Hanlo and this you see before you are dust. But while it stands, we can at least admire the corpse of something greater than ourselves. The spirit has passed from man, said Telechronos.”
“But what comes after us?”
“If there is another age, I think it will begin a whole new cycle. Perhaps there will be a place for mankind in it, perhaps not. I think even the laws and shapes of things, and the passing of time will be entirely different. In fact there is a curious prophecy—Telechronos himself made it when he lay dying. With his last breath he told of seeing a shining face looking down into his, saying that when at last one understands himself, the end will be the beginning and the beginning the end and the new age will open.”
Neither of them said a word as they returned to the city. Tharanodeth was too exhausted to carry him, so Ginna walked. He cut his feet on sharp stones but never complained. After a while the old man leaned on his shoulder. They rested often. After a long time, when both were faint from thirst and hunger, the towers of Ai Hanlo rose above the dry hills. It was nearly evening when they found their way into the tunnel, and the sun had set before they returned to The Guardian’s chamber. When they got there people were knocking on the outer door and ringing bells, calling out, “Dread Lord, Noble sovereign, urgent news. Pressing business.”
“It’s always urgent and pressing business,” sighed Tharanodeth. “Whenever I go away it piles up like water behind a dam.”
He let the boy out through a secret way, then went to face his courtiers. But just as he opened the door he fell down unconscious and they carried him to his bed, letting the affairs of state pile up even more.
* * * *
When he was twelve, Ginna saw Tharanodeth for the last time. The Guardian had not sent for him for several weeks, and he was disturbed by the silence. There was no message. But then The Guardian’s man came to him and nodded, and he knew how to go and where. He found the old man lying in his bed, and for the first time Tharanodeth seemed truly old to him. His long white beard seemed scraggly, no longer smooth and fine; his face was shrunken and pale; his bones were like a stark wooden frame over which a thin blanket of flesh had been draped.
Charms made from the skulls of men and animals hung from the bedposts. An intricately carven staff of polished ebony leaned against the wall where it could be easily reached.
The boy looked at the staff with dread. He knew what it was.
“Yes, it is for my last journey,” said Tharanodeth. “I have my walking shoes on, too.” He pulled up the blanket so Ginna could see them.
“Please... don’t...”
“Die? Please don’t die?” the Guardian laughed softly. Then he sighed. His breath was wheezing and tired. “I’m afraid none of us has much control over that, any more than we can prevent our epoch giving way to another. Telechronos said that He said it all, the old windbag. But listen to me, my friend. Yes, you are my friend. Guardians aren’t supposed to have friends. They can’t. Everybody wants something, or spies for this faction or is in the power of that lord. It is like a cave of spiders, each spinning webs to entrap the rest He who sits aloof, beyond all that, is the most alone. I have only you. You are the only one who is not tainted by intrigue. This is why I have tried to keep your comings and goings a secret. Of course a few people know. But they’ll keep quiet for a while yet, I hope.”
“But, why me?”
“There had to be someone. I think I would have gone mad without you. Some guardians have, you know, although their subjects interpret their madness as holy ecstasy. And why not you? You are mysterious enough to hold my interest Yes, very mysterious. I think there is more to you than the eye can see.”
“What? How am I so mysterious?”
“Who were your parents?”
Ginna was left speechless by the directness of the question. All he could utter was a babble of half-formed words. He sat down on a stool by the bedside and stared at his friend for a while in silence. All around him flickered scented candles, set there to attract the Bright Powers and drive off the Dark. Some sputtered. This and the old man’s dry breathing were the only sounds.
With a great heave The Guardian sat up, turned, and took the boy by the shoulders. He stared intently into his eyes.
“You didn’t have any parents,” he said. “You know that much already.”
“I was... found.”
“But do you know where?”
Ginna shook his head.
“In the same cradle with that horror of a son of mine. You didn’t know that, did you? Did you know that everyone said you were bewitched? My magician wanted you killed. He’s a fusty old buzzard, but he means well, so I think he really felt there was a danger to me. But I said no. I saw a destiny in you. I don’t know what. These things have a way of working themselves out. But something special.”
Exhausted at the strain of sitting up, he let go of the boy and dropped down onto his pillows.
Moved near to tears, wanting to open himself as fully to Tharanodeth as he had to him, Ginna did something he had never done before in The Guardian’s presence. He folded his hands together, then opened them, then folded them, until he had made a dozen balls of light and juggled them. They drifted slowly, none of them brighter than the candles. When he stopped they fell on the bed and the floor and winked out.
“Then it is true. You are magical.”
“I can do what you just saw. When I first came to you, I was afraid to. After that, I guess I never did.”
Tharanodeth smiled. “I never asked you to.”
“It’s as easy as talking or moving my fingers, but I don’t think there’s anyone else who can do it. I don’t know what it means.”
“I had really hoped you would,” said The Guardian, staring up at the ceiling, where the two aspects of The Goddess looked down on him. “I am going into a far country, from which I shall never return. They say that when we depart thence, when we walk the last long road, if we are brave and true and avoid all the perils, we come to paradise, and sit there listening to The Musician play beautiful songs for all of eternity. But this is uncertain, for no witness has ever come back to report it. I am afraid. I will tell you that much. I had hoped you could provide me with some insight, some comfort, some secret gained through your magical nature. Something. Have you ever had visions?”
Ginna spoke slowly, very carefully. “I have had dreams. You are usually in them. You are very wise and you lead me. Sometimes we walk in the dead city among the flickering towers, and I can see the faint outlines of the buildings as they looked when they were new. There are people hurrying back and forth. We try to talk to them, but they don’t stop. To them we’re invisible.”
“Then whatever secret is in you has not yet come out. Perhaps it shall when I am gone. That is why I fear for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes. If I could have things as I want them, you would be my heir and rule all of Randelcain6 after me. But I have made it clear from the start
that you are not. I said so in front of witnesses when you were found, and for a very good reason. After I am dead, you must keep that quality which had endeared you to me. Stay out of politics. Don’t seek position or fame. Don’t get to know the right people. If you are part of even a little intrigue, a tiny stratagem, you are changed forever. Do you understand why I was so careful to disinherit you? If you had any claim to the throne, how long do you think you would be allowed to live? Kaemen has his followers already.”
“What shall I do, after—?”
“Just live. I hope you can do that. Then, if there is a destiny hovering about you, it will be fulfilled. If not, you’ll still be happier.” He took a ring from one of his fingers and gave it to Ginna. “Wear this always. It will tell people that anyone who harms you will face the curse of my ghost. It is my last command to you that you survive. See that it is carried out.”
“I love you,” the boy wept. He leaned over and put his head on the old man’s chest. He sobbed without restraint.
“I love you too.” Thin, pale fingers with skin dry as parchment stroked his hair. “I don’t believe guardians are supposed to love anyone. We’re supposed to be beyond all that”
Someone knocked on the door to the chamber.
“Holy Lord,” came a voice. “Are you awake?”
Ginna sat upright, stiff with terror.
“Go quickly,” whispered the old man. “It’s one of my accursed doctors. Very skilled, utterly useless now. A bore. You wouldn’t want to meet him.”
The boy left the bedside without another word. He drew aside a tapestry, pressed on a stone, and left the way he always did.
* * * *
Shortly before dawn, Ginna lay awake atop a heap of straw in his room in one of the short, squat towers overlooking the kata stables. The quiet of the night was broken only by the occasional snorts and whines of the beasts and the far off cries of the watch.
He chose to be alone then, but it occurred to him that most of the time he was alone anyway without any choice. Courtiers and soldiers ignored him as just another urchin. The stable folk, the trainers of the katas, the smiths, and the serving women were always polite. They tried to act naturally around him, as if he were no one special, but he knew, he could secretly sense that they were a little in awe of him and a little afraid. He sometimes overheard snatches of whispered conversations. He was, after all, so often led away by men of purpose and bearing. Someone was showing him more attention than he would normally merit, and trying to hide the fact He was, rumor had it, part of some intrigue, perhaps a child of high rank being hidden until some danger was past. But the gossipers could never possibly imagine the truth, that he was being summoned by The Guardian himself, that he was Tharanodeth’s friend.
His friend. It occurred to him that he had only two friends in the world. He knew so few people. He had been educated only by Tharanodeth, and spottily, learning whatever it had moved the old man’s fancy to teach him.
Tharanodeth and the girl Amaedig, whose name meant Cast Aside. And now Tharanodeth was dying. But he could weep no more. He had exhausted his supply of tears that evening, and there was only a hollow ache within him.
“Ginna.”
He sat up with a start. The straw rustled. He peered breathlessly into the gloom. The world was absolutely still. Something had shut out all the sounds of the night
“Ginna.”
“Here I am.” His heart pounded with bewilderment, then terror, then joy when he recognized the voice, followed by terror again. It was impossible that he was hearing that voice now, in this place.
“Ginna.”
Tharanodeth stood in the doorway to the room. He had the carven staff in his hand and he wore a travelling cloak and his walking shoes. His face shone brightly, as if a lantern were held up to it, and yet there was no lantern.
“Ginna, I am on the road now. It is a long way. Goodbye.”
“Wait! Where are you going? Don’t go!”
The light went out like a candle extinguished. The boy leapt up and stumbled out into the hallway which was filled only with the echoes of his shouting.
It was very dark every way he looked, and when he fell silent the night was still.
He walked the battlements until dawn in search of his friend, hoping for another glimpse, but he asked nothing of the few people he met. They couldn’t help him. He dared not tell them what he had seen.
The new day found him in a wide, high hall. The sun touched the blue glass of the skylight, flooding the room with color. On opposite walls were hung portraits for the bright and dark aspects of The Goddess. One, clothed in midnight, remained dark. The other, astride a dolphin, glowed with the brilliance of the sunrise.
Remembering when he had first met her, he placed his hands together, then parted them, and a ball of light rose up for The Goddess to see.
Suddenly trumpets sounded. Cymbals clashed. Many metal-shod feet tramped. Two huge doors swung wide in front of him, and suddenly the room was filled with people. First came the trumpeters, then a squadron of soldiers in full armor, with richly decorated shields and banners trailing from their spears. Drummers drummed. A line of boys Ginna’s age rang bells and chanted. Countless courtiers, lords, and ladies followed, all in their richest attire. In the midst of them was a chair on a platform, held aloft by eight burly men.
Ginna was so bedazzled by this intrusion that he just stood there in the middle of the floor, gaping.
“You there! Brat! Get out of here!” A captain in a scarlet cape and winged helmet came forward waving a sword.
“No. Let him stay. Let him be the first to congratulate me.”
Ginna looked up to see who had spoken. Everyone else looked up too. When that voice was raised, all others fell silent. He recognized the pudgy, pale figure on the platform, even though he had not seen him in years and certainly had never seen him like this, dressed in vestments which were black on one side and white on the other, and holding a golden staff in his hand.
It was Kaemen. He was only a month older than Ginna, but now he was the new Guardian, the holiest person in the world.
The great mass of people divided and flowed around Ginna like a stream around a boulder until the chair of Kaemen drew near him. Then the bearers set it down.
“Come forward,” said The Guardian, his girlish voice cracking in an attempt to be deep and commanding.
Ginna didn’t know what to do. Court etiquette was wholly strange to him. He had never spoken to a guardian in public before, or even with any noble lord.
He fell on his knees, keeping his eyes to the floor.
“You may kiss my hand,” said Kaemen. “Yes, Ginna, I know who you are. They say you are magical and were sent to bewitch me when I was a child.”
“Oh no! I wouldn’t—I could never do that—Dread Lord!”
“Of course you couldn’t. But you tried and you failed. Now it amuses me to see what you will do next”
“Holy One! I would never do anything. I didn’t! Please forgive me!” Ginna desperately hoped he had said the right things. Apparently he had.
“You may kiss my hand and look upon my face. Consider yourself greatly honored.”
Hastily he made one of the few court gestures he knew, that of Blessing Received, and to be sure he repeated it twice more. Then he raised his head, and took Kaemen’s sweaty, soft hand in his own and touched it to his lips.
The Guardian was doing his best to look on impassively, to demonstrate that this inferior did not concern him one way or the other, but he could not completely hide his astonishment when he noticed that Ginna wore Tharanodeth’s ring. And Ginna could not fail to see that flash of pure hatred on his face, even though he recovered almost at once.
Kaemen’s eyes were blue voids, revealing nothing.
The whole of the day and much of the evening were filled with the coronation of the new guardian and the funeral of the old. Countless rituals had to be observed, and officials, called Masters of the Act, oversaw each with s
crupulous care. Kaemen alone was able to descend into a certain vault, while his attendants sang a hymn which could never be sung on any other occasion and were accompanied by instruments which could accompany no other song. He was the only one who could bring forth a certain reliquary containing a splinter of bone of The Goddess, and of all the living he alone among them was permitted to touch the inestimably holy corpse of his predecessor, to open the mouth, place the reliquary within, and close it again. This one act, with all its prayers, pauses at preordained stations, and pantomime re-enactments of the highlights of Tharanodeth’s reign, took hours.
Ginna was relieved that The Guardian let him go on his way after that first encounter. He watched the proceedings from a tree at the back of the crowd. The whole population of Ai Hanlo was present, this being the only time when the folk of the lower city were allowed within the forbidden precincts. He had never imagined there could be so many people alive in one place.
Tharanodeth lay on his bier with his travelling cloak wrapped about him, his death-staff in his hand, and his walking shoes on his feet. And yet Ginna knew that his friend had departed the previous night and was already well along his final, perhaps endless road.
He was left behind with his only remaining friend, Amaedig, and with Kaemen, who might be ignoring him for the moment, but had certainly not forgotten him.
CHAPTER 3
The Bright Hope
As far as Kaemen was concerned, what was wrong with the world was that there were so many disgusting people in it. Vile, obnoxious, stupid, every one of them. And then there were the lesser sort—soldiers, servants, common folk. They were just beasts, animals, oafs. Oh, they could give you the time of day and blather about trivia, but they were animals nonetheless.
The Shattered Goddess Page 3