‘That's the best plan I've heard all year.’
‘We can build a house and catch fish and have kids and—’ She could no longer hold the tears back, and she pressed her face into his shoulder to smother them. ‘Oh, Sal, I'm so afraid.’
‘Me too.’ He put his arms around her and rocked her gently. He stank of stale blood and sweat, and the bristles of his week-old beard prickled her neck, but she didn't mind at all. ‘I've never been so scared in all my life.’
They stayed like that for a long time, not noticing what was going on around them until the sound of raised voices proved impossible to ignore.
Shilly pulled back and wiped her face. ‘Some things will never change.’
Kelloman and Marmion were shouting at each other on either side of the Angel. The glast looked down at them with a blank expression on its glassy face. Its features were Kemp's yet at the same time they were not. Nothing remained of the person whose body it had once been.
‘It's not your decision,’ Marmion was saying. ‘I have authority here.’
‘And you're just going to take them back without a word of protest?’
‘I don't care what they did. At this point in time, I don't even care what it is. They saved us back there. That's enough for me.’
‘You're a trusting fool,’ Kelloman sneered.
‘Actually, I'm a suspicious son of a bitch. Just ask Sal and Shilly. They'll tell you.’ Marmion walked to the Angel's side and held up his hand to the glast. ‘We need all the allies we can get at the moment.’
Instead of shaking his hand in return, the glast raised Mawson's head.
‘I may be unstuck in time,’ said the man'kin, ‘but I am not without eyes. I have seen Yod, and now I know it for what it is. The alien is not alone.’
‘Clear as muck,’ said Kelloman. ‘I don't trust you either—you and him and her and them…’ The mage's right index finger stabbed at Mawson, Vehofnehu, Shilly, the Angel and the glast in quick succession. ‘You're all suspect in my book.’
‘We did go behind your back. There's no denying that.’ The empyricist stepped forward, his posture even more stooped than usual. Griel watched from the entrance to the cavern with a sorrowful look. ‘But we were acting with the best intentions. All the information at our disposal suggested that this was the path to take.’
‘And so it was,’ said a woman's voice from behind the far side of the cavern. ‘For a while.’
All heads turned to face the new arrival. Shilly rose to her feet without thinking, impelled by an emotion she couldn't have defined. Not respect, for less than a day before the same woman had almost cracked her head open to stop her from using the charm; not surprise either, for she had suspected that she and the Goddess would meet again. It was hope, she decided.
The Goddess walked with an assured gait across the space where the shadow veil had once hung. She still wore her black robe with the hood down, only now it was looking considerably dirtier. Its cut and lines were similar to those worn by the Holy Immortals when they had gone down the tunnel, and Shilly wondered which was modelled on which. If the Goddess had truly given the Ice Eaters their strange duty a thousand years earlier, she supposed this was the original.
Only then did she realise that the Ice Eaters’ robes also reminded her of those worn by the Holy Immortals. And then, as though a series of dominoes had started falling, she remembered where she had heard the name ‘Mannah’ before.
There was no time to pursue that thought. Behind the Goddess walked the twins, their Homunculus body looking misshapen, almost stretched. Behind them came Highson Sparre, even leaner than he had been in Laure, and an odd-looking dwarf with a narrow face and restless gaze.
‘That's Pukje,’ Sal whispered to Shilly. ‘Don't underestimate him.’
She made a mental note not to.
The Goddess did not approach Marmion or Lidia Delfine or the glast, but went straight to Vehofnehu and went down on one knee before him.
‘My friend,’ she said.
The Panic empyricist's face twisted in anger—perhaps even hatred. Shilly had never seen him look so savage. Even Griel looked at him in surprise.
‘You tricked them,’ he snarled. ‘You promised them a reward and gave them a curse. Is that how you repay their loyalty? Don't you remember how they took you in and brought you to me, a thousand years ago? Is your memory so short?’
‘I have forgotten nothing,’ she said, still bent before him. Her black robe pooled behind her like tar. ‘For me, it has been just twenty-five years.’
‘Then—why?’ Anger turned to puzzlement and hurt. ‘Why was this evil deed necessary?’
She looked up at him, then. ‘Because all things must have a beginning. Because my destiny in this world-line and theirs are inextricably tangled. Because such things happen when you mess with the Flame. Because Treya and her ancestors accepted their fate willingly, even if they only saw a small part of it at the time. And because I have responsibilities that override personal concerns. You know that. Seth and Hadrian know that. If I was to emerge from the Tomb at the right time, they had to be there. And if they were there, this was always going to happen. I do not say I wish it weren't otherwise, but at the same time I do not apologise. Great works require great sacrifice.’
‘You quote your own book at us,’ said Vehofnehu scornfully. ‘The words you put in the mind of that awestruck fool, Ron Synett. He made you a Goddess! You know that, don't you? Your message did get across, in part. The old gods were forbidden and forgotten—and in the light of the new world, how could they not be? But your scribes set you up in the place of those gods, on their empty altars. That was his greatest sin. How do you hope to undo the damage? What is the path upon which you have so recklessly placed us?’
The Goddess sighed and rose to her feet. Her hazel eyes scanned the people gathered around her, all keeping a respectful but curious distance.
‘My friend here is right,’ she said. ‘I'm no Goddess. Outside Sheol I'm an ordinary woman with no more powers than any of you. But I do possess a certain perspective, and I will use that to ensure the survival of the world-line we inhabit. That's what this has always been about: from my sisters and the twins to the present day. An apple tree may be rotten to the core, but so long as one fruit holds a viable seed, hope remains.’
Lidia Delfine was nodding before she finished. ‘We have that saying back home. My brother used to tell it to me as a child.’
‘Yes, and the analogy is particularly apt. The human world-tree is enormous and, at this point in time, almost entirely sickened by the depredations of Yod; a thousand years ago, it invaded the world-tree's branches and almost brought about a Cataclysm. Only one branch survived, the one containing Seth and Hadrian in limbo—which split off from the main trunk when Sheol was destroyed—and that branch itself has been branching, until it has virtually become a world-tree in miniature, one far removed from its neighbours. Yod has emerged again and now the miniature world-tree, in its turn, is sickening and dying. Except for this branch, this here and this now, where we must concentrate our energies. If it dies, the entire human world-tree dies with it. With us.’
Her gaze tracked around to meet Shilly's. ‘You've seen some of those endings,’ she said, with sympathy. ‘It isn't any easier when you've seen them all.’
Shilly clenched her hands around the top of her cane, and nodded.
‘Why this particular world-line?’ asked Marmion, who had watched the exchange without interrupting. Shilly could practically hear the cogs turning in his head. ‘What makes it special?’
‘Because you're all in it,’ the Goddess said. ‘You, me, Shilly of Gooron, Sal Hrvati, Seth and Hadrian Castillo, Highson Sparre, Mawson, Mage Kelloman, and the glast. Without this unique combination of individuals in exactly the right time and place, there would be no future. We might as well roll over and show Yod our bellies. But with us together a chance exists, one we will strive to see through in order to save this world.’
‘
Don't you already know how it's going to turn out?’ asked Warden Banner from the sidelines. ‘Isn't it a foregone conclusion?’
‘Unfortunately, no. At every moment, this world-line branches again and again. The past has led us here like a road through a forest, stretching behind us; from now on, the chance to get lost again returns. And as I'm no longer in the Tomb, I know only which path we should take, not which one we're actually on. I'm as blind as you now I'm down in the trenches with you.’
‘So what do you suggest we do?’ asked Marmion with something like his usual tone. ‘Give us our orders and we'll decide whether to follow them or not.’
‘You'll follow them if you want to live.’ She smiled broadly, unfazed by his jockeying for ascendancy. ‘For now, all I suggest is that we get some rest. You're exhausted, and Yod is a slow mover. That's why it employs agents like Gabra'il and Upuaut to act for it. A day is an eyeblink to one so large. By the time it decides what to do next, we will be refreshed, and ready to counter it.’
‘But the tentacles—’ began Rosevear.
‘Reflexes,’ she cut him off. ‘They don't need a mind to track and consume prey any more than the bacteria in your gut need a mind to break down food. As long as we avoid them, we'll be okay.’
‘So the door will hold?’ asked Shilly.
‘It will hold long enough.’
‘And what about Gabra'il?’ asked Vehofnehu. ‘You know he'll be looking for us already.’
‘Oh yes, and he'll find us soon enough, too, but we're easily a match for that overdressed git. You may not truly know it yet, but you are a force to be reckoned with. In fact, you hold in your hands the power to remake the world. How you choose to remake it is something that shouldn't be decided on an empty stomach.’
The Goddess didn't look at Shilly, but she felt that the words were aimed squarely at her. The charm she held in her mind promised to do exactly what she said: remake the world. Yet the Goddess had stopped her from using it once already. What had changed between now and then to make it all right?
That's up to you, now, the Goddess had said as the balloon limped away from the towers. Just you, not the others.
Why me? Shilly wanted to yell. What have I done to deserve this?
You wanted it, she reproached herself. Vehofnehu had offered her a place at the centre of things, and she had eagerly taken it. She had no one to blame but herself now that things had turned out to be harder than she had expected. She wondered if it had been like this for Sal the whole time they'd been in the Haunted City, years earlier…
Kelloman and Marmion were already arguing again, this time about whether to set up camp where they were or to make for the Ice Eaters’ former headquarters. The four surviving indigenes were sitting to one side, looking shocked and stunned. One of them, the boy called Orma, seemed to be trying to decide which fate would be the worst: condemned as a Holy Immortal to travelling backwards in time forever, or left behind to live out an ordinary—and perhaps very brief—life.
The Goddess hadn't listed Skender's name among those needed to defeat Yod. That saddened her. Bad enough that Chu had been taken over by Upuaut, but if her old friend had fallen as well…
‘I'm staying here,’ she declared, dragging herself back to the present. ‘Tom and Kail aren't going anywhere without a great deal of effort. We'll need bedding and food and what weapons we can salvage. Some of you will have to go gather all that, and I'm keen to help any way I can. The sooner that gets underway, the sooner we all can rest. Okay?’
That was enough to stop the argument. Griel and the foresters volunteered to be on the foraging parties. Orma raised his hand also. None of the wardens were free to go, and Shilly wouldn't let Sal leave her side, so Kelloman was forced to accompany the non-Change-workers, just in case something dangerous surprised them in the caves.
‘I suppose I have been lying down for much of the night,’ the mage said, flexing the arms of his borrowed body. ‘That'll give me an edge you might need.’
As he and the other foragers set off up the tunnels, the Goddess came to where Shilly stood with Sal.
‘How's the head?’
Shilly reached up to touch the bump. It was still tender. ‘On the mend.’
‘I'm sorry I hit you so hard.’
‘It's okay,’ said Shilly, although she didn't entirely mean it. ‘I've had worse.’
‘Really? I must be losing my touch.’ The Goddess raised her right fist and clenched it. ‘This broke the jaw off a man'kin, once,’ she said. ‘Back in the days just after the Cataclysm, they were a lot wilder than the ones you have here. They'd kill as soon as look at you, just for being human.’
‘I've met a few like that,’ said Sal dryly. ‘Things haven't changed that much, really.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘I guess they haven't.’
Shilly formally introduced him to the Goddess. Sal bowed graciously, but with an edge Shilly recognised as scepticism. She could understand that. Close to, the Goddess looked like nothing more than an ordinary woman. That jarred with the habitual veneration most people had accorded her in her absence.
The Goddess's attention wandered to where the twins sat in their strange body. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘I think the time has come for me to mend some bridges.’
The Goddess strolled off with her grey, brass-bound ponytail swinging from side to side down her back.
‘Is she really—?’
‘Yes,’ Shilly told him, ‘and she did hit me, if you're going to ask that next. Clobbered me a beauty right behind my ear to stop me using the charm.’
‘What charm was that?’ he asked.
She took a deep breath, then took his hand. ‘Let's go sit down somewhere and talk. This could take a while.’
Seth stewed as Ellis talked to the others.
After hailing him and Hadrian from the shore as they returned with the others from the towers, she had stubbornly fobbed off all their questions, saying the time wasn't right.
There was so much he wanted to ask her, if she would only let him start. Instead, she had hurried them along a series of tunnels to where she said the others were waiting, ignoring all attempts at talk from anyone, Highson and Pukje included.
Upon her arrival, the others had seemed to show as much surprise as Seth and Hadrian's party had felt at seeing her on the beach. And that in itself puzzled Hadrian. They were only surprised…
‘They're really taking it in their stride,’ Seth's brother said, speaking aloud—as they had been since returning from their long flight, increasing the distance between them even further. ‘I mean, if Jesus Christ had turned up in the middle of the Gulf War, people would've had hysterics. And he probably wasn't even real.’
‘No, he existed,’ said Pukje, who had joined them to watch the fireworks on the sidelines. The imp seemed tired again, but not yet ravenous. The knives had fallen out of his hide, and he had lost the rope around his neck. ‘He wasn't a god. He was either lucky, or unlucky—depending on how you look at it—to have a message that various sides could exploit irrespective of the condition of the realms. It took a full-blown campaign by this remarkable woman—plus plenty of evidence that miracles had nothing to do with whatever faith you followed—for his influence to finally fade. And that's the point here. Gods of old were sometimes irrelevant or short-lived; it was the institution of worship that prevailed. Here, there are no institutions, and magic is everywhere we look. So when the people who live here meet the so-called Goddess, they don't bow and scrape. They're respectful, wary even, but forget talking in tongues or making sacrifices. They know that won't get them anywhere with anyone, human or otherwise.’
Hadrian could accept that. Seth thought it irrelevant. He was more concerned with what Ellis meant to him. To them. The Book of Towers had referred to them as the ones the Goddess had loved—but both their memories and the Handsome King's testimony suggested that parts of the text couldn't be relied upon. Ron Synett had been an unreliable witness at best. If he had been better at chr
onicling the Goddess's words, wouldn't there have been clearer instructions waiting for them? Wouldn't there have been at least an explanation of who the Goddess was?
‘You never met her,’ Seth said to Pukje, unable to hide a resentful tone.
‘That's not true. The Book of Towers even mentions me, in passing. When Bardo collapsed and the realms merged, Ellis came to the mountains where I was waiting to find out what had happened.’
‘What was it like after the Cataclysm?’ Seth asked Pukje. ‘What did she do?’ How did she get so old? he wanted to ask.
‘It wasn't a fun time for anyone,’ Pukje said. ‘Mot and Baal were on the rampage. The landscape was all mixed up and people didn't know anyone any more. Language barriers dropped, and that caused more problems than it solved. Man'kin were walking and golems stirring; all manner of critters were waking up and wreaking havoc. And then there was the Change. No living human had ever used it, but everyone knew what it was; they hadn't forgotten what magic could do. Some picked it up faster than others. Wars broke out that were just as bad as any that had been before. That's when the Broken Lands were, well, broken. It was dismaying.
‘And that was when she stepped in.’ Pukje cocked his pointed chin at Ellis. ‘Sheol was in pieces, but the Flame still flickered. She could still access the new world-tree, and what she saw there formed the basis of a new way for the world to work. She founded the Weavers; she helped round up Mot and Baal; she scattered the Swarm to all corners of the Earth. And when she had done all that, she came back and told people how to live their lives. Don't wait for the old gods to tell you what to do. Use your brains and the Change to make things happen for you. That's what they're there for, after all. Not for fighting each other.’
Hadrian listened to the story with fascination. Seth was more critical. ‘Ellis did this?’
‘She's not just Ellis,’ said Pukje. ‘She's also Nona, youngest of the Three Sisters. In less enlightened times she was revered as a goddess of justice and birth. Her priests demanded fiery sacrifices of the faithful—and your guess is as good as mine as to how she felt about that. Maybe she liked it, then. Maybe now she's grown up and spent a little more time among the masses, she's lost her taste for blood. Maybe she'd rather build than break. Either way, she has ways about her that you and I can barely imagine. Remember that.’
The Devoured Earth Page 27