The demon king sauntered over, and his servants followed him like hungry dogs. “Do you want something to eat?” Caleb said.
“I’m not hungry.” She stared into Caleb’s moon-white eyes, searching for malice, but found only an unexpected compassion.
“Had a little slip there, did we?” He wiped his mouth with a leather napkin, then let it fall. A servant caught it before it hit the floor. “One must be mindful, when walking the Stair.”
“I’ll try to remember that next time I travel it.”
He put his large hands on her shoulders and peered deeply into her eyes. He was huge, bigger than Papa, and his presence was unexpectedly soothing, just like when Papa used to put his arms around her when she got sad. She hated herself for linking the memories, because how could she take comfort from the monster who had locked away her best friend? Was this part of his magic? But she couldn’t find the strength to pull away from him.
“Rana,” Caleb said. “I feared you were gone forever.” His voice resonated inside her chest. She closed her eyes. Damn, why did he have to be so soothing? “The Cosmos would have mourned your loss. There are none like you in all the Shards.”
A Mikulal approached the king. A curious metal brooch of interlocking shapes was pinned in the flesh of his chest. A gold crown with glittering rubies sat crookedly on his head. “We are deeply honored by your presence, my lord. Your servants have but one request, if it pleases the king.”
“Yes, Havig?”
“We wish to hear the Gu sing.”
That word, again, Rana thought. Gu.
“She will not!” Marul snapped. “We’ll have none of that!”
“None of what?” Rana said. “Song?”
Caleb smiled, revealing his large and healthy white teeth. “Would you deny our gracious hosts the pleasure of your voice, Rana?”
Marul grabbed Rana’s wrist and squeezed hard. “Rana, you don’t want this. Trust me.”
Rana recalled the hungry gazes of the Mikulalim on her walk to the Lev. “I don’t understand. What’s so special about my music?”
“When you sing,” Havig said, “for a short time, we forget our pain.”
Murmurs of assent spread throughout the room.
“You’ve heard me before?”
“As I told you,” Yig said. “When you sing, the whole Cosmos listens.”
The Mikulalim stared at her. Eons of suffering hung heavy on their faces.
“Grug,” Caleb said, “what say you? Do you desire Rana’s song?”
“Yes, my lord. Very much. But only if the Gu wishes it.”
“So,” Caleb said, “would you deny the one who saved your life?”
Their gaunt, eager faces surrounded her. “I suppose not,” she said. “I don’t see the harm in one song, if it makes them happy.”
Marul squeezed her wrist even harder. “Rana, you’ve no idea what you are saying!”
“What’s wrong with singing? What happens if I sing?”
“Something profound,” Caleb said. “You’ll discover who you really are.”
Rana was trembling. “And what am I?”
Caleb smiled. “A little goddess.”
“Only a girl!” Marul said. “Just a girl. Rana, please. Don’t.”
Rana yanked her hand from Marul’s grasp. “I’m not a girl anymore, Marul. I make my own decisions now, and I choose to sing for these Mikulalim.”
Marul turned her gaze up to the ceiling. “By the Goddess, why does she not see?”
Caleb clapped his hands in anticipation. “She will see,” he said. “Who she is.”
Havig gave Rana a broken-toothed smile. “Please give us a moment to prepare.” He walked toward the open-aired side of the chamber that peered out at the cavern. A stone ledge extended several paces beyond the walls, a black terrace with no railings. Two golden plinths, like the ones at the door below, reflected the firelight in curious dancing waves. She stared at them, mesmerized.
Havig stepped onto the ledge and chirped several staccato notes. His echo returned moments later, amplified by a thousand walls below.
“Goddess,” Rana said. “The echo!”
“This is our Pedestal of Lamentation,” Havig said. “There is no better place to sing in all of Gehinnom.” His voice fanned out gloriously over the city.
“You want me to sing out there?”
“We want you to sing to all the people of Yarrow, mistress.”
The Mikulalim in the chamber were hurriedly sitting themselves in concentric circles. They made complex gestures with their hands, then bowed heads to floor, over and over, their murmuring like wind against the DanBaer.
“I can’t sing for a whole city,” she said.
“Of course you can,” said Caleb. “Let Yarrow hear you, Rana. And for the first time, you might truly hear yourself as well.”
“What am I,” Rana said, “that others know of me before I know of them? What is it about my songs that travel to places I’ve never been?”
“Sing,” Caleb said. “And you will know.”
Marul was shaking her head, Daniel was staring, and the Mikulalim were chanting. She stepped out onto the Pedestal of Lamentation and gazed down. Many thousands of Mikulalim filled the interstices below. More were pouring in from adjoining tunnels.
“What should I sing?” she said.
“Anything, mistress,” Havig said. “Anything at all.”
Her legs felt weak. What if she disappointed them? What if her voice broke? What if this was a demon’s trick? But she had to know what she was.
She cleared her throat, and a note slipped out of her unbidden, as if it had waited eons for her to open her mouth so it might fly away. Its echo returned moments later, amplified by its journey across the cavern. Goddess, it seemed as if this place had been made for music. Even the susurrus of her breath was carried to the far reaches of the cavern and beyond. If her songs in Azru had resounded through the Cosmos, how far, she wondered, would her music travel here?
She took a deep breath and began.
A note flew from her mouth, a bird spreading wings. It lofted in the air, free. It swooped past the distant walls, dived into the tunnels, spinning and frolicking as it traveled. It whooshed over the masses of Mikulalim, down Yarrow’s crooked streets and around its odd corners. It flew up Kipod’s Stair, circled Marul’s prison before escaping through the emerald door. It climbed up the invisible stair, hopped over the Fires of Korah, and leaped past the lizards of Old Stone on the top of the DanBaer. It raced down the mountain path to the heart of Azru. It skipped through the city streets like a she-camel, turned at the four stone lions in Dusty Square, and raced toward home. It slid under the doorframe, rattled the hanging pots, shook the clothing on Mama’s lines. It slunk into the bedroom to curl itself snugly around baby Liu’s ear. The Little Bean opened her eyes and giggled. “Rana!” Liu said.
And all this from the first note! When she began the second, she felt as if all of Gehinnom were listening. The Mikulalim stared, slack-jawed. They were extensions of her body now, invisible sinews connected to her. With the third note she thought that if she wished it, the masses would drop to their knees. With a fourth note they did just that. The clap of their kneeling made the Lev shudder. With a fifth note, a surge charged through her, a stampede of oxen in her blood. She was inexplicably and terribly aroused, filled with a sexual urge greater than any she’d known. Because she felt it, everyone felt it too. Whatever consumed her while she sang dove deep into their ears and wrapped around their brains, wringing out all other thoughts. Anything at all that she wished, they would do.
And this was all so utterly wrong. No one, she thought, panicking, No one should ever have such power!
She stopped in mid-note. Her voice lingered in the cavern, afraid to vanish. Eventually, it faded. The women were weeping. The men held their chests and bowed. Marul’s pupils were wide and dark. Daniel’s mouth hung open, drool falling from his lips. The white of Caleb’s eyes shone like winter moons.
>
Caleb blinked awake and applauded. The sharp sound broke the spell. As everyone awoke, murmurs filled the room. Jumbled voices floated up from below the ledge.
“I have never, in my long existence,” Caleb said, “been treated to such aural bliss. Rana, you have outdone even the Creator herself.”
“Praise the Gu,” Havig said, bowing. “Praise the Gu, forever.”
Rana felt so weak she thought she might fall. The energy that had surged through her seemed to vanish like water down a basin drain. “I need to go,” she said. She was still on the Pedestal. Her voice spun out over Yarrow for small eternities. The masses nearly fell into a trance again. “I need to go. Now.”
Great Goddess Mollai, she thought, I’m a monster. A demon like Caleb. Or something worse. Marul rushed to her, took off her cloak, and placed it over Rana’s shoulders.
“Come, Little Plum,” Marul said. “Let’s leave this accursed place.”
Rana let Marul lead her down the twisting stairs of the Lev and out into the hot air of the vaulted cavern. “I warned you,” Marul said, holding Rana close.
“What am I, Marul?”
“You are Rana Lila, my Little Plum.”
“But not only. I’m something else.”
“You’ve been given a precious gift. But you’ve always known that, haven’t you?”
“I felt . . . something.” She dared not voice its dreadful magnitude, which like a sandstorm came to swallow her. “Am I a demon?”
“No! The furthest from it. What you felt is Caleb’s cunning and the eagerness of a million cursed people to end their suffering. Their emotions were as much of that experience as yours. Don’t let it confuse you! That’s not what you are. When we leave these tunnels, you run straight home to your parents, to your baby sister, Liu. I will survive. I always have. This world of demons and shadows isn’t yours. You’re not meant for all this.”
And for the first time in her life, Rana agreed with that sentiment.
The others spilled quietly out of the Lev, led by Caleb and Havig. A crowd of Mikulalim formed around her, but kept their distance. They stared at her as if she were a precious gem.
“We leave now, Caleb!” Marul said.
“Calm yourself, witch,” said Caleb. “First, Havig has something for our treasured guest.”
Havig approached her. Rana flinched as he held up a silver chain, its small links sparkling in the light. On its dangling pendant, Rana recognized the symbol from Havig’s chest. A triangle inside a square, inside a circle, inside another triangle. The pattern repeated, a receding tunnel of concentric shapes. At its center was a scintillating eight-pointed star of yellow stone. The shapes seemed to breathe as the pendant spun, left and right. A hole remained on Havig’s chest where the pin had been.
“Take this gift,” Havig said, “in return for yours. It is not nearly as great as that which you have given us, but it is the greatest thing we possess.”
“What is it?” Rana said.
“Protection,” Havig said. “You have given us, however brief, a respite from our daily hell. For that we are eternally grateful. This pendant was one of a small number given to us by Azazel, who lies chained in Dudael, beyond the Mountains of Darkness. It will protect you from harm and hide you from evil. Wear it, and we will rest easy, for we know the Gu is safe.”
He took her hand and placed the necklace inside her palm. Rana nodded her thanks, then Marul led her away. “Caleb,” Marul said. “Let’s go!”
“Havig,” Caleb said. “Alas, the witch is correct. It’s time for us to leave Yarrow.”
“We regret to part with your glorious company, my lord,” Havig said. “As you’ve requested, I have provided ten of my best men. They know the tides of the sands and the habits of its creatures. They will see you across the desert to the Quog Bedu. We’ve given you supplies for three weeks. May you reach your destination long before then, my lord.”
Ten Mikulalim stepped forward. Swords hung from their loose-fitting belts. Together they hauled four black trunks, large as coffins. Grug and Yig, Rana saw, stood among them.
“The loyalty of the Mikulalim,” said Caleb, “will be rewarded when our task is done. This I vow by Great Abbadon.”
The throng took to their knees and bowed to their king. Then they turned and bowed to Rana, and in a flash she was back on the Pedestal, the sickening power coursing through her blood. She felt the need to sing again, to command their minds and make them dance.
Dance, puppets! Dance! she thought. She closed her eyes. No, no! This was sickness! It had to stop! She pulled Marul close, and buried her head in Marul’s bosom like a child.
Marul patted her. “It will all be over soon, Rana.” Then she said, “Caleb, I beg you, let Grug stay in Yarrow”
“But Grug wishes to join us,” Caleb said.
“By compulsion?”
“By his own choice, Marul, and you know it.”
“Grug,” she said, “you must remain here. It will be dangerous.”
“I do not fear my death as much as I fear yours,” Grug said.
“You never know when to turn away, do you?”
“And you never know when to be quiet.”
She sighed. “A truer statement has never been uttered.” She took Rana’s hand. “Come, child, it’s time to go.”
They walked toward the gold-flecked cavern wall, where a narrow tunnel led into the rock. Rana clasped Havig’s necklace. The metal was cool and soothing in her palm. She wanted to throw it away, to forget this place. But she found herself slipping the chain into her pocket.
They entered the tunnel. Quickly, the light grew dim as Yarrow vanished behind them. They turned through narrow tunnels, led by a taut-muscled Mikulal carrying a torch. From the distance, growing louder with each step, came a deep, resonant throb, as if she were hearing the DanBaer’s slow-beating heart.
“What is that sound?” she said.
“The sand break,” said Grug. “Waves of sand flow in from the Tattered Sea and break against the mountainside.”
A point of light appeared ahead, its brilliance alien to this dark place. With a start Rana realized this distant star was daylight. She longed to bask in the sun, to escape these bleak walls of stone. And if she felt this after just one day, what was Marul feeling after five long years?
Marul squinted into the light, her pupils smaller than mustard seeds. Daniel stepped up beside them both.
“Yesterday Grug cut off his tongue and force-fed it to me,” Daniel said, looking especially pale. “From what I gather, this is so I could understand your language, Wul.”
Marul stared at the light. “Hm? Oh, yes, that’s correct.”
“Grug’s people are the Mikulalim,” Daniel said. “In Heebroo, that means ‘cursed.’”
“Yes,” Marul said.
“Will I . . .” He paused. “Does that mean I—”
“I didn’t know who you were, Daniel,” Marul said, eyes fixed on the exit ahead.
“But you didn’t answer my question. Will I become—”
“Enough!” she snapped, “I haven’t seen daylight in five years! Can’t you let me enjoy this moment in peace?”
Daniel frowned. “I guess. Sorry.” He walked on ahead toward the Mikulalim, until he was out of earshot.
“Grug gave him the Mikulalim curse,” Rana whispered to Marul. “Daniel will become one of these Cursed Men, won’t he?”
Marul stared into the light, and the green of her eyes brightened by shades. “I thought he was just another fool from Earth, a nobody, in over his head.”
“But he’s not, is he? He is a Lamed Vavnik, a pillar of the Cosmos. But if he’s cursed, what does that mean? Can he still hold up the world? Will he fall under Caleb’s thrall, like Grug and all his people?” As they nearly fell under mine? she thought with a sickening twist of her belly.
“I don’t know. He’s not yet a Mikulal. But his desire for human flesh will grow to consume him. And when he finally tastes it, his quickening will
be complete. Then the curse is irreversible. But if he doesn’t taste human flesh, he will remain a man. Mostly.”
“But if you knew this would be his fate, why would you do that to him?”
“Because, Rana, I’ve been locked in this mountain for years! You’ve no idea what that has been like! You came with a promise of freedom, and I needed answers. What was I to do?”
“Grug protested,” Rana said, “Now I see why. It’s because you asked him to poison an innocent man!”
“Oh, hush, child,” Marul said. “When you’re locked in a cave for five years, then you can judge! This is my moment of freedom. Let me enjoy it.”
Rana gazed at the woman beside her. Her natty hair, wild eyes, and soiled clothes. Imprisonment had changed Marul, and not for the better. Daniel, glanced back at them. He must have known they were speaking of him. His eyes were sunken, his skin pasty. Would this pillar of the Cosmos soon become a walking corpse man? Marul had condemned him to a life of hell and seemed to care not one bit.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When lightning struck the black cliffs of Abbadon, its thunder echoed for hours as it wound its way through the folds of stone. In the same way Rana’s voice resounded in Caleb’s heart. How glorious was her music! How sublime was her sound! She had tasted the power; Caleb had felt its surge. The poor girl had lived her entire life in a cage the size of a city, and for the first time she glimpsed the immensity beyond its walls. No wonder she cowered now. But his little fledgling bird would soon overcome her fear and spread her wings.
The cave mouth approached, and the desert blinded them with daylight. His Mikulalim servants donned heavy black cloaks woven from human hair. The cloaks concealed their faces under large hoods. They slid on gloves of brown human leather. They checked each other for absolute concealment. Without such protections, the sun would draw what little moisture they had from their bodies and leave them as desiccated lumps of living tissue.
Light shone from the opening a hundred paces away. Grug, in the silent language, reminded Caleb to warn the others of the sand break. Rana and the humans quickened their pace, their shadows long and shrinking in the tunnel.
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